


A Soft And Melting Ultion

by fuure, PieDeLune



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Car Accidents, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Healing, Inspired by Literature, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Medical Trauma, Minor Character Death, Omorashi, Physical Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Redemption, Sexual Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8837713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuure/pseuds/fuure, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieDeLune/pseuds/PieDeLune
Summary: A violent storm, a traumatic car crash. Things seem quite grim for William Spears, until he is rescued from the wreckage by a kind recluse named Sebastian, who begins to nurse him back to health. However, there's only so much you can do for someone who needs major medical attention, and Sebastian is very insistent that William stay...





	1. Into Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a certain Stephen King novel. Kudos if you can guess what it is. 
> 
> This is one of our darkest small-cast fics and it has a lot of potentially triggering content within. 
> 
> We'll try to tag at the beginning of each chapter, but also viewing the content tags will give you a basic idea. If you want to see more, please reviewwwww!!! we love revieeewwwssss!

Growing up, William T. Spears had always been in awe of a storm’s destructive power. The raw strength of nature could level buildings, uproot trees and cars, and drown whole towns in its fury. But for William, a young and bookish child, it had been nothing but comforting for him.  
  
He adored the pounding of rain on his windows, capturing the world in its droplets. Its beat let him drift off to sleep, or empowered him when he felt alone. The shouting of the inky black clouds as they flashed and shook the earth made his heart race in excitement. And something about growing up that way meant that maybe he felt just a little invinceable against them — they meant him no harm.  
  
But nature was a fickle mistress; it did not favour anyone in particular, and William was no exception.  
  
One night, as he drove him from work, a powerful thunderstorm raged all around him. William wore a little smile in the dark, feeling safe and protected from the torrents of icy rain thrashing against his vehicle. It had been a long day, but things were good, and soon he’d be home with a nice cup of coffee to sip while he read by the fire.  
  
He was very intelligent, and hyper-vigilant of the road as he navigated it…but what followed was completely out of his own control. As he passed through a rather dilapidated suburb on the way to his quite respectable home, nature turned on him too.  
  
Due to the wet road, the driver of a semi lost control of the vehicle, flying through a red light, and positively T-boning William’s car off the side of the road. It went rolling down the hill, its driver thrown about within it like a ragdoll.  
  
As William covered his head and tried not to die, all he could think was how very stupid and naive he had been. Then the car plummeted into a tree, and all the lights went out.  
  
\----

The hideous sounds of metal crunching against metal and earth carried through the freezing night air, and into the ears of one Sebastian Michaelis. The haggard man was cooking something in a meager little saucepan on his ancient, rust and grease-stained stove, watching it bubble pitifully, and he lamented that his last meal couldn’t be more luxurious than this. He’d glanced into the the next room, where a noose was suspended limply over a chair from a support beam in the ceiling, waiting for him, when he heard the sounds creep through his paper thin walls. Even as apathetic and done with the world as Sebastian was, he looked up in alarm, unable to ignore it; he turned the stove off and ventured outside with a tattered umbrella to investigate the sound.  
  
The second to last thing he expected was to find a mangled and bleeding man trapped in a totaled car in the woods right by his little shack of a house. The very last thing he expected was that this person would be a man that he _knew_ — a psychiatrist he’d visited once upon a time. Not just any, either, but _this_ one in particular.  
  
If left unattended, the man would bleed out in his car; and if he was _really_ unlucky the fuel line would rupture and the car would explode.  
  
_Fire…no, don’t think of fire…_  
  
With little regard to his own safety, Sebastian seized the man round the wrist without a second thought and dragged him through the broken glass window, pulling him into his dark and silent little house.  
  
Fate had personally hand-delivered poor William to Sebastian’s doorstep; clearly, it had something in store for them, and Sebastian was very keen to find out what.  
  
One minute William had been driving home, enjoying the storm…and the next minute, his skeleton had been contorted like a human pretzel. Luckily, he did not have to endure this horrific state of being, because he was deeply unconscious.  
  
It was three days out of his life that he remained in that state, and it was very possible he would have died without the intervention of one local hermit.  
  
In his teenage years, William had often fantasized of becoming a stormchaser. Childish dreams though they were, if he had to choose how he died, maybe a storm would not have been the worst way. It reminded him of the good times in his childhood, and it reminded him of his beloved father. But William had no desire to die, so it was certainly a miracle when he woke one morning in a small, grey little bed, he could see a little sunlight from a window near the ceiling, and he was not in any pain.  
  
Clearly, fate was on his side.  
  
The smell of coffee filled the air — nothing fancy, nothing fresh roasted, but simply powdered instant coffee. It was pleasant and airy, and there was a helping of it by William’s bed, sitting atop a rickety table in a chipped mug.  
  
A door opened somewhere above William’s head, and there came the sound of quiet footsteps down a set of creaky wooden stairs. Sebastian appeared with a small plate of toast, buttered (margarine) and cut into triangles, and he glanced over at William carefully.  
  
“Oh…you’re awake! Thank goodness,” he uttered in surprise, hurrying over to William’s side and setting the plate of toast down. “I’m not sure what I was going to do if you were unconscious for much longer. How are you feeling…?”  
  
William was very drowsy, and his body felt stiff like cement. Nonetheless, he perked up when his saviour entered the room, especially seeing the plate of food being carried. After three days of being totally unconscious, he was _starving_ .  


“Uh..hello, there..” William murmured, looking up at the tall man with long, dark hair. Good heavens…he was a fine sight to behold, if it weren’t for those dark, unhappy eyes. What kind of life had this person had?  


William went to adjust his glasses, as was his customary tic, only for dull pain to shoot up his side as he moved his arm.  
  
“Hh…?” Looking down, the brunet beheld his naked chest, pale skin bruised terribly and deep wounds that had been stitched and bandaged. The site made William’s stomach flop uncomfortably, and a weak groan left his chest as he suddenly remembered everything of the past night, from the moment he left work to the moment he collided with that tree.  
  
“Oh..oh, my god…!”  
  
A very reserved man, William was not one to make such an emotional utterance…but if any situation called for it, it was this one. William had to avert his eyes in distress..He couldn’t dare look under the blankets. Something told him it was not good.  
  
Yet, eventually, he still pulled himself together and meet Sebastian’s eyes.  
   

“W-who are you?” he asked hesitantly. Did this person…save his life that night?  


“I am a doctor,” Sebastian replied, kneeling by William’s side at the bed and checking over the bandages he’d changed the night before. “My name is Sebastian Michaelis. You’re in quite a state, aren’t you…? Frankly, I think you’re lucky to be alive. You might not be if I hadn’t been awake to hear your car come crashing down into the wood by my house.”  
  
He checked injuries very carefully, feeling William’s pulse, gently setting the plate of toast onto William’s lap. There was even an IV in William’s arm, giving him fluids and at least keeping him hydrated. “But you are alive, and I’m glad for it,” he added, surveying the IV.  
  
It was a very shabby room with a shabby bed and sheets, but it was all clean. Clearly, Sebastian was poor, but he valued cleanliness. Nothing smelled bad; merely old and worn. The blankets on the bed were mismatched and faded, and the things like the tableware were clearly secondhand. The handsome doctor himself looked very worn, and not just his clothes.  
  
He sighed softly after checking William’s vitals. “I’m glad you’ve made it,” he repeated in relief. “Now that you’re finally awake, will you tell me your name?”  
  
William listened to the man speaking to him — Sebastian had a definite tone of authority, much as William himself did — and let out a small sigh of relief.  
  
A doctor. Thank goodness. Even though looking around, William’s OCD was set off by the disorganization, it was by no means dirty, or even untidy. Things just didn’t match. The home seemed more like a miner’s shack, maybe…? Certainly not any place a doctor should be living, and William had the title to attest to it.  
  
_I certainly hope everything has been disinfected._  
  
“My name is…William T. Spears…” the brunet replied after a brief moment of recollection. “I’m a doctor, too — a clinical psychologist…I…”  
  
Though William was making his best efforts to be observational, the drugs that were no doubt in his system were making it very difficult. Things were fuzzy, his mind was sluggish. It was an awful feeling, but he was not in pain.  
  
“Thank you for…treating me. I am eternally grateful…to you.”  
  
William was a peculiar man. He had handsome Eurasian features, but his eyes were a glacial grey-blue, the same as his father’s. It was a genetic oddity he was proud of, but it always made him look very stern. So it was a testament to his gratitude when the corners of his eyes crinkled warmly as he thanked the doctor.  


“Forgive my asking…but…why have you not taken me to a h…a hospital?”  
  
Sebastian offered the plate of toast, which was still warm, to his guest. “Please, don’t mention it. I swore an oath as a doctor to protect all patients in my care. Now, to answer your question…your injuries were critical,” he replied with a grave tone and a furrowed brow. “I had to take you in myself. I have no telephone or means of safely transporting you to a hospital. Your condition was so bad I had to keep constant watch on you…I couldn’t risk leaving to go find help.”  
  
He glanced away. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if you’d died while I was gone,” he added very quietly. “No…it was best that I remained here with you.”  
  
But his gaze softened and he returned his eye contact. “But now that you’re awake, I know that your condition has improved considerably. I’d like to keep a close eye on you for just a little longer before I attempt to transfer you to a hospital.”  
  
William looked down at the plate, and slowly picked up the toast to nibble on. “Could you…not call an ambulance? I’ll pay all of the...costs…” he assured him. "Since…I’m sure you’re not hiding an X-ray machine somewhere in this home…and I fear I may have some broken bones…”  
  
He grasped the hem of his blanket, again deciding if he should check on the damage. Curiosity got the better of him in the end, and he took a peek.  
  
" _Shit_.”  
  
There were definitely broken bones down there, and they didn’t look like they’d been set. William was distraught to discover both his knees were shattered, his left femur had what looked like an open break, and judging by the irregular shape of his shins, those were broken too. No ankle that was that swollen and bruised could still be intact, so he might as well write that off…  
  
William put his plate aside, now feeling decidedly nauseous. He was speechless, and basically wanted to cry. But he was not the type, and instead chose to take a few deep, shuddering breaths to calm himself.  
  
How tragic; his once pale, athletic body was mangled and covered in angry purple bruises and vicious cuts.  
  
William vaguely recalled a useless fact from medical school — you could die from too much bruising. He supposed he wasn’t in danger of that now they’d all come up, though…  
  
“Oh…I’m really…in bad shape, a-aren’t I…?” he mumbled, clumsily adjusting his glasses with the other hand — this didn’t hurt quite so much.  


“I don’t have a telephone,” Sebastian repeated with sympathy. “I don’t make much…I pay my rent, I pay for utilities, and I pay for groceries. What I have here is what I could spare from my practice. A phone is a luxury I can’t afford, unfortunately. I can’t call for an ambulance.”  
  
He winced and glanced away as William assessed his injuries; he’d seen it from many patients waking up for the first time, but this was his first time witnessing it when the patient had no casts and could see how bad the injuries really were. Needless to say, they were bad.  
  
“Yes,” Sebastian agreed, setting a hand on William’s back. “I’m sorry. I’ve done everything I can for you so far. Now that you’re conscious, I’ll be able to go get you the rest of the help you need. And I know you aren’t feeling well, having seen your injuries, but please eat what you can. It’s been three days, Mr. Spears. I need you to get something into your stomach. Toast and coffee aren’t much…but we must be gentle to your digestive system.”  
  
William stared at him for a long moment. Sebastian had a kind, tired face, but right now alarm bells were going off in William’s head. There was absolutely no doctor in any civilized country that did not have a phone. They needed to be reached at all times after all. As if William hadn’t been panicking enough, the seed of fear began to bloom within his churning belly.  


“What if I have…i-internal bleeding…?” he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Please, you must go…and get help…I could die.” He reached out for Sebastian with a trembling, battered hand. “You said you didn’t want that, remember…?”  
  
Even if Sebastian had the best of intentions, stupidity was dangerous. Even if he was just a man living in poverty who wanted to help out, and lying to keep William calm…he was doing much more damage by keeping the man here.  
  
This was _not_ how William wanted to go out.  


“You don’t have internal bleeding; I can tell you that much,” Sebastian reassured him, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I won’t let you die. You’re safe with me. I’m going to get you help, I promise…”  
  
As luck or fate would have it, thunder clapped overhead, and both men glanced up at the ceiling, listening to the sound roll over them. Rain began to patter against the window, and Sebastian crossed the room to look out it. “Oh, no,” he murmured, clutching the worn old curtain. “I thought the storm had stopped…! The sun was out only a moment ago, wasn’t it? Damn it… _damn_ it.”  
  
He turned back toward William with a furrow in his brow. “The roads have been closed for the past few days because of flooding, and if this storm persists, that flooding is only going to get worse. It’s not safe to travel; the flooding could be making sinkholes or worse.”  
  
He joined William’s side again and rested his hand over William’s. “Please…you have nothing to fear. I’m here to take care of you. I have enough food and supplies to take care of you for several more days. I’ll need to change your bandages as well, and I’m sure you must be wanting a bath. You’re safe here.”  


For once, William was not happy to hear the sound of rain. _Has it turned against me entirely…? My favourite, most calming occurence?_  
  
“…That’s…very unfortunate,” he said with a deep sigh, but at least he felt a lot more at ease knowing Sebastian would have gone for help if not for the storm outside. “…Was the storm really so bad?” he asked, closing his eyes and letting the stress leave his shoulders. “Strange...we don’t usually get such serious storms around here…”  
  
Truth be told, the hand of an attractive man in his own was…very relaxing. It had been too long since he’d last felt such a thing. And if Sebastian knew he didn’t have internal bleeding, then he really must be a doctor. William could breathe.  
  
“I suppose I am…really lucky you found me…Dr. Mic…Micah? Michaels? Sorry, I don’t…quite r-remember…”  


Looking up towards the window by the roof, the brunet wondered if he was in a basement _. Is that…safer from flooding?_ In his disoriented state, William wasn’t sure. It certainly was safer from storms.  
  
“You’ve…had to do a lot for me, the last few days, huh…?” he said suddenly. It was amazing that he had enough blood left in his body to blush…William still had the grace to be embarrassed.

 

“Michaelis,” Sebastian repeated patiently, gently pressing the hot coffee mug into William’s hands and warming his fingers with it. “Dr. Sebastian Michaelis. Please…think nothing of it. It’s my job as a doctor, after all. Please don’t be embarrassed.”  
  
Sebastian glanced at the window again with William, following his gaze. “This storm has been very unusual. I heard weather reports on the radio calling it a cyclone,” he added in a somber voice. “I’m not sure at all when it will finally dissipate. We’ll have to keep waiting and see, but…neither of us want that to be much longer at all.”  
  
The doctor returned his gaze to his patient and gave him a friendly smile. “Now, Mr. Spears…how much do you remember? The state of your car wasn’t very pretty when I found you. Do you remember what caused the accident? It looked like far too much damage to be hydroplaning.”  


“It’s…it’s ‘Dr.’…Spears…’ William answered softly, taking the cup and raising it to his lips.  
  
He was used to low quality coffee. It was fine, frankly delicious, to sip the warm beverage. Sebastian’s home was frigid and, as the rain starting coming in, William noticed the roof starting to leak. There were carefully positioned buckets to take care of that problem, however.  


God…William could barely concentrate. Sebastian’s words were blurring into each other, and William’s legs were starting to throb. He could feel it, dull and dark.  
  
“A truck rammed me off the road and down a hill….I hit a tree. I…can’t believe I actually survived…”  
  
Another sip. William was calm, even if he was starting to hurt.

 

“You’re extraordinarily lucky that I live right here where you crashed,” Sebastian told him with a charming smile. “If I didn’t, I honestly doubt you would have survived. Between your injuries and the weather, you would have bled out if you hadn’t died from exposure. Frankly, I haven’t heard any emergency vehicles come this way or on the road up on the hill. Whoever was in that truck must not have reported an accident.”  
  
Sebastian set to work on replacing some of William’s bandages. “Either they must have thought they hit a deer, or they truly committed a hit and run crime. People are foul…” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But what matters is that you did survive and you’re in my care. I’m only sorry it couldn’t be more…ah…well, luxurious.”  
  
Sebastian’s words continued to run over William’s head like water over a riverbank. The brunet blinked sleepily in response, his fuzzy gaze focused on that dazzling smile of Sebastian’s.  
  
“Not…an issue…” William answered. “I think I won out…in the bedside manner department.”  
  
Oh, mercy. It wasn’t proper to flirt with a man who saved your life and took you into his home. But when you were doped up on morphine and staring at a man as good looking as Dr. Michaelis, you could hardly be blamed.

 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at William’s bold, drug-encouraged flirting, but he smiled and shook his head playfully in response. “Flirting with your doctor…honestly, Dr. Spears, how inappropriate.”

 

But he winked to let William know it was all fine, and continued to take care of him with the very best of his abilities.

 

William then finished up his drink. His toast was half eaten at first, but Sebastian convinced him to finish the rest as well. The pain by then was becoming vocal enough that William spoke up about it tentatively, and Sebastian upped the amount of drugs entering his system.  
  
Before William could wonder if that was entirely the wisest move, he’d drifted off into that lovely, pain free wonderland of sleep once more.  


  


\---  
  
The next few days passed in a similar manner, and the rain continued to pour relentlessly down upon the quiet little house at the edge of the woods, preventing the charitable doctor from taking his patient to a proper hospital. The many pails places across the house to catch leaks in the roof were emptied out again and again, but the cellar in which William was cared for never flooded.  
  
Sebastian would bring William coffee and humble but warm meals at regular intervals, and kept him company while he ate and slowly grew stronger. Even if there was nothing Sebastian could do for the moment to treat William’s badly injured legs, he could at the very least give him the drugs that took the pain away. It was a good enough compromise. Sebastian was skilled enough to not allow his patient to die, and he was very determined to keep him alive and as comfortable as possible.  
  
The fourth morning since William’s awakening marked a week since he’d been under Sebastian’s care. The rain was finally beginning to let up, and Sebastian brought William a hot meal for breakfast as usual. Coffee and scrambled eggs today, seasoned simply with salt and pepper. It was a good meal for all its simplicity.  
  
“How are you feeling this morning, William?” Sebastian asked his patient with a kind and concerned smile upon giving him his meal.  
  
For William, those days had been a very drug-hazed blur. Deep down, a seed of anxiety was blooming at the thought of what it would be like not to be on the morphine, and he knew this couldn’t exactly be healthy. But what did he know? He was too strung-out to think clearly, half the time. Either way, Sebastian had been beyond hospitable, tending to his every need with an amiable smile. William found it humiliating, naturally, but it wasn’t anyway near as bad as it would be if he was actually sober. For that, he was thankful.  
    
“I’m rather well today, doctor,” he answered, nibbling his breakfast. “It has not…rained…since I woke up. I’m…ready to go to the hospital.” Looking up, he gave Sebastian a sleepy smile. “Finally be able to…get fixed up and move on with life.”  
  
Sebastian, however, frowned a little in concern. “Even if the rain is finally letting up, there is still the concern of flooded roads and valleys,” he replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It could be immensely dangerous…don’t you think we should wait another day or so and wait for the roads to dry?”  
  
He unfolded his arms to draw the curtain on the window aside, and he looked out at the world. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still saturated. It would be a while before the mud dried and became dirt again.  
  
“Honestly, I don’t think it’s safe yet.”  
  
William deflated a little, but he’d come to trust Sebastian and Sebastian clearly knew best. Though, it was hard to judge a man when you’d both talked so little about anything. In fact, Sebastian keeping him company was...eerily silent at times. The atmosphere often felt heavy.  
  
“I...guess you’re right,” William answered with a little sigh. What could he do?  
  
\---  
  
Then the next day went by, and the next. The rain didn’t come back, and birds sang in the trees outside. By now, William was growing quite anxious that his legs would heal the wrong way if left unattended for any longer. It had been a week since the crash, hadn’t it?  He’d already tried asking for his phone to call an ambulance here, but his raven-haired saviour said he hadn’t found one on him after the crash.  


“Sebastian,” he said once he’d had his breakfast that day. “It’s time I go to the hospital. Please take me.”  


Sebastian’s brow furrowed the way it always did when he was about to deny William this request. He glanced away, looking deeply troubled, and purses his lips. “I just don’t think that’s wise, yet,” he said quietly, avoiding William’s gaze. “It could still be dangerous. The roads here aren’t paved. I don’t know what they’re going to look like after such a storm.”

 

Looking injured, he glanced briefly into William’s eyes. “Are you so eager to leave my care? Have I not been enough for you?”

 

William blinked. He hadn’t had his dose administered for today, so he was particularly lucid at the moment.

 

He was in an average amount of pain; by now he was having faint palpitations, and with each one came painful throbs in his knees. One knee was at least an inch out of its socket, effectively shortening his leg by the equivalent amount, and the other was just shattered in place. Even wiggling his toes, he felt a sickening crunch in the knee as tendons around it moved amongst the fragments.

  
He needed those drugs, but his current lucidity awarded him one thing: As a psychologist, he caught onto Sebastian’s manipulative behaviour in a heartbeat, and now, he was genuinely beginning to worry that things weren't as they'd seemed. 


	2. Unpleasant Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> physical violence tw,  
> Pls enjoy, be sure to subscribe and review if u wanna see more~

“Sebastian….your hospitality has been more than appreciated,” William replied, carefully choosing his words. “And I promise you will be handsomely reimbursed for it. But we both know I need x-rays; without them, I will be crippled for life. I’ve been more than patient for the last two days, my friend, but the time has come for me to leave.”  

 

“It isn’t safe yet,” Sebastian repeated firmly. “I understand your need for x-rays, but I don’t want to take you yet. I…I would have to inspect the roads, drive you at an excruciatingly slow place to prevent further damage to your broken bones, and take all sorts of other precautions.

 

Automatically, he moved to William’s morphine drip with the intention to strengthen the dosage again. “You aren’t ready to leave,” he reaffirmed, reaching up to the drip. “Not yet.”

 

William clumsily batted Sebastian’s hand away from the drip. 

 

“No,” he said quickly. “I am fine with however long it takes to drive me there. Please, Sebastian…! You’re…you’re…”

 

Well, William never thought he’d have to save these words.  “…You’re starting to frighten me,” he said quietly, eyes averted. “I wish to leave.” 

 

There were only so many ways to say it, short of demanding to be released. But that wasn’t necessary….was it?

 

Sebastian’s eyes glinted with displeasure, and he somewhat roughly took hold of William’s hand in response.

 

“Do not strike me again,” he warned him quietly. “Why are you frightened, William? I’m merely doing my job, which is to protect you and care for you. Is there something about me that is threatening to you? I hardly think worrying for your safety is threatening or frightening. What is bothering you?”

 

It was a legitimate question, but Sebastian’s aura had changed, at the atmosphere in the room became much, much heavier. There was a significant, tense silence between the two men as they gazed into each other’s eyes, Sebastian waiting patiently for his answer.

 

William drew his hand back.

 

“I...I didn’t…strike you…I just don’t want any more painkillers right now. I really wish to leave, Sebastian. Will you hold me here against my will….?” 

 

An uncomfortable feeling crept up the back of William’s neck, and he thought he might be sick. He’d never felt so helpless until now, because something definitely, definitely was not right.  His carer had completely run out of excuses, and now…it would unequivocally turn to anger. 

 

Sebastian wasn’t going to let him go, was he….?

 

“Then use your words,” Sebastian suggested in a tone that let William know it was  _ not  _ a suggestion. “Don’t slap my hand away. That’s very rude.”

 

He leaned down closely and invaded William’s space, still not taking his eyes off of his patient’s, and he was expressionless.    
  


“Do you fancy yourself a hostage now?” he asked with a quizzical tilt of his head. “My goodness. You just keep continuing to be ruder and ruder to me. I’ve never been so insulted.”

 

He straightened up, looking away thoughtfully, and tapped a slender finger to his chin. “…Ah,” he said softly. “Yes, I have. That seems to be in your nature, after all. Isn’t it, Dr. Spears? You have insulted me even more gravely than that in the past.”

 

Ah, he couldn’t help it…the kindly and concerned facade was unraveling. Frankly, Sebastian was surprised at himself for keeping it up this long.

 

There was a beat of silence, where the temperature in the room felt like it dropped past zero.

 

Those last words of Sebastian’s: ‘in the past’…it told William all he needed to know. 

 

When you were a doctor of any kind, you couldn’t always hand out good news. And sometimes, people took it badly. When you were a clinical psychologist, sometimes the people you gave bad news to reacted in very alarming, sometimes illegal ways.  

 

He’d angered a psychopath somehow and now he was going to pay dearly for it.   

 

Of all things, William’s instinctive response was to laugh under his breath. 

 

“Oh, heavens…” Oddly enough, the uncharacteristic action was calming. It kept him a little more clearheaded, as opposed to letting panic and pain take over. 

 

“Alright…let’s talk. So, what did I do to deserve this?” he muttered, shaking his head and hiding his smile behind his hand. “Couldn’t magically cure your condition with drugs, I suppose? Or maybe I wouldn’t accept your advances…?” 

 

Of all things, Sebastian never expected to be  _ laughed  _ at, and it lit a terrible fire within him. He was being laughed at. This wretched man, who had thoroughly ruined Sebastian’s life, was now mocking him. Up until this point, he had remained very calm, and even charming, but now the gloves were off. 

 

Sebastian responded by pulling a fist back and slugging William in the side of the face as hard as he possibly could.

 

Before his ‘patient’ could recover, Sebastian seized him by the upper arms with a vicelike grip.

 

“I didn’t expect you to remember,” he said in a dangerously soft voice, like a volcano just shy of eruption. “I was only one of dozens of people whose lives you must have destroyed that day, wasn’t I? I came to you, alone and destitute, begging for your help. You afforded me all of fifteen minutes of your precious time before you cast me aside without so much as a single word of parting advice.”

 

Sebastian let go of him and took a step back, letting out a single, hollow laugh. “I don’t think you even listened to one single word I said during those fifteen minutes,” he added bitterly. “Likely you were too busy daydreaming about how to spend your handsome paycheck. Don’t think I didn’t notice the Rolls you crashed, or the £700 phone you had in your pocket.”  

 

William’s head snapped sideways under the force of Sebastian’s fist, and lights popped behind his eyes. 

 

This situation had just taken a nightmarish turn from bad to worse. 

 

“I-I would never!” the stunned brunet uttered when he finally found his words, cradling his cheek. “I have a duty of care to all my patients. I want to help people; that’s why I took this job!” He waited until his eyes uncrossed before opening them, gazing up at Sebastian with a bewildered expression. 

 

“What happened?! I know I’d never treat someone so poorly unless they were behaving in an unacceptable manner. I don’t…recall you at all.” 

 

William was incredibly gay, and a man who looked as good as Sebastian would not be forgotten. 

 

It did not go unnoticed that Sebastian had lied about not finding William’s phone, too.   
  
It made sense that the last few days were all just a facade on Sebastian’s part. Punishing William had to be his true intention.

 

“You spent  _ fifteen minutes _ with me,” Sebastian repeated scathingly. “Of  _ course  _ you don’t recall me. It’s been five years since then, as well, and I have been through hell and back.”

 

He one-handedly seized William by the cheeks, squishing them together and forcing William to look at him.

 

“I was covered from head to toe with fresh burn scars from the blaze that had just killed my husband and our son,” he whispered. “I was suffering from the trauma of their loss and my injuries, and you refused me the medication that would have saved my sanity and eased my suffering. In fact, O  _ Saint _ , you accused me of falsifying my symptoms in order to receive those drugs. Does  _ that  _ sound familiar yet?”

 

William didn’t even defend himself– he was gobsmacked (literally) by the news he was hearing.

 

_ That one case five years ago. How could I forget…? _

 

“I didn’t recognise you at first,” William said after a long silence, pulling himself away from Sebastian’s grip. “You had a different name then. Very short hair, and of course, all the…”

 

He gestured to his face, in reference the first degree burns covering Sebastian’s face that day. 

 

“You’re right, Sebastian. That day, you were unfairly treated, and it was a mistake. I am more ashamed of that single day than any other in my entire history as a psychologist and it has, in fact, haunted me for all these years.”

 

William’s eyes were now a stormy grey as he looked this ghost of his past in the face and saw him truly for the first time.

 

“ _ You _ have haunted me. What I did to you…there’s no excuse…but there is my side of it, too.”

 

Sebastian immediately shushed William, resting a finger on William’s lips and giving him a deceptively tender smile.

 

“That,” he said softly, “sounds like an excuse to me. I don’t believe for one moment that you regret what you did. Fate delivered you to me so that I could exact my revenge upon you, and that’s what I’m fully intending to do.”

 

His finger traced soft lines from William’s lips to his chin, and then slowly up his jaw and tapping his cheek. “Don’t apologize. I know you’re only apologizing because I know you’re afraid of me now that I’m a threat to you. I don’t want to hear your empty words. I just want to make absolutely certain that you suffer every bit as much as I have suffered.”

 

“…Do you really believe that just torturing me is going to make you feel better…?” William asked in a deceptively steady voice. “I believe you may have begun to subconsciously associate me with the event that killed your family, which is why you are harbouring such malice. It’s not me you hate so intensely…I’m just someone you can take all your pain and hurt out upon.”

 

William gently took Sebastian’s hand in his fingertips.

 

“I can help you, Sebastian. I searched long and hard for you to give you the care you were owed, and I still want you to have it now.”

 

The haggard doctor accepted William’s hand, continuing to give him a tender look. He responded to William’s offer by calmly seizing William’s ring finger and bending it so far backward that all of the joints snapped and cracked hideously as they broke.

 

“Don’t attempt to play mind games with me, shrink,” Sebastian told his captive pleasantly. “Because you refused me the medication I so badly needed, I was desperate enough to seek them through illegal means. Consequently, law enforcement discovered me and I spent several years in prison. I lost my medical license. I lost  _ everything _ .”

 

His smile did not reach his eyes as he calmly broke William’s little finger as well. “Please do trust me when I say this:  _ I utterly loathe you with every last cell in my body _ .”

 

William naturally cried out as Sebastian broke not one but two of his fingers.

 

“You can’t blame me for you breaking the law. You ruined your own life!” he snapped back viciously, the pain igniting anger within him. “It’s not like you couldn’t have come back! Nor am I the only psychologist who does free consultations!” 

 

William cradled his twisted hand, sweat gathering on the back of his neck. “I did search for you. I didn’t stop for at least a year. Maybe if you hadn’t lied about your ID, I could have found you easier!”

 

“Perhaps if you had simply treated me like a human being, none of this would have happened,” Sebastian countered, unrepentant. “I didn’t lie about my identification. My marriage to my late husband was not recognized by the government, but the name that I gave you – Sebastian M. Phantomhive – was a true name.”

 

He stepped back, gently flexing his own fingers. “How could I come back?” he asked softly. “My mental illness was fresh and I had no idea how to handle it. I had nothing to my name because everything was lost in the fire. I couldn’t even legally inherit anything or collect life insurance from my family. Legally, I was a stranger to them.”

 

Sebastian smiled handsomely as he completely cut William off from the morphine drip. “But how touching that you searched for one year out of five.”

 

William scowled, nursing his broken fingers close.    
  


“But I  _ did  _ search. I was going to make it right, but you landed yourself in prison. You were nowhere to be found. And here you are, holding me against my will, abusing me, whilst preaching about being treated like a human being. You’re a damned hypocrite,” he hissed.    
  


William thought Sebastian was going to knock him out with the morphine drip, but instead the raven removed it entirely. “You can still make it right before you go too far, Sebastian. Your husband and son would not want this. They wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

 

Sebastian detached William from the drip, cutting off his supply to the painkiller completely. Upon William’s suggestion, however, Sebastian tore the blankets from the bed and exposed him to the cold air, seized William by the ankle, and dragged him halfway off the mattress by it, grinding his broken bones together.   
  


“Don’t you  _ dare _ presume to know what my family would have wanted,” he hissed, eyes wide with utter hatred. “You  _ never _ knew them! How dare you! You know _ nothing,  _ do you understand me?!”   
  
All of Sebastian’s charm and pleasantries had completely vanished. There was nothing but a deranged animal living in the hollow shell that was once Sebastian Michaelis. He was determined to positively _ destroy  _ William as much as possible without killing him.

 

Seeing Sebastian completely lose his sanity and yank William’s purple, swollen ankle certainly shut him up  – after the screaming, of course. 

 

“No – no, stop – stop it!” he cried, staring up at Sebastian looking utterly aghast. “I’m sorry – you’re right…! I shouldn’t have said it – !”

 

William still knew that they were probably perfectly civil, but he’d never been in a situation like this. Nobody at psych school prepared you for the possibility of being taken hostage by one of your demented ex-patients. He had no idea how to get through to Sebastian, and if it was even possible at all. 

 

Shivering in agony, William pulled himself away from Sebastian and further up the bed. 

 

Able-bodied Sebastian was easily able to grab William all over again and drag him back down. “I know you don’t mean a single word of that,” he snarled, this time deliberately twisting William’s foot as sharply as he could. “If only you’d kept your mouth shut. If only you’d never been such a rancid _ cunt  _ that day. You miserable waste of space…how I long to just end your life right here, but that would be far too easy. Too merciful.”

 

With another vicious yank, he sent William to the floor in an unceremonious heap. “Of course I’m right,” he went on, glaring down at William with undisguised loathing. “But I will not stop until I’m convinced you’ve truly repented.”

 

William cried out, feeling a crunch in his swollen ankle that had to be his bones moving further out of place. Oh, god, this was hell… and being thrown onto the floor was undoubtedly an entirely new circle of it.    
  
It was then that William felt the full measure of damage done to his knees, which expressed itself in an inhuman shriek. For a few seconds,  the poor man blacked out entirely.    
  


Maybe then it could have been a dream…but of course, it wasn’t.    
  
And Sebastian was still waiting for him when he woke back up.    
  
Sebastian was perched on the bed with the air of a prince disguised in rags, one leg crossed neatly over the other. “Ah. Have you decided to join me again?” he commented snidely once he saw that William was awake. “How considerate of you.”   
  
He smiled cruelly and nudged William with his shoe. “How convenient that the crash broke your legs like this. I won’t even need to cuff you to the bed like I was initially planning. If I’m lucky, you’ll never stand again. You’ll die down here as slowly and as painfully as possible once I’m satisfied that you’ve properly repented.”   
  
William was silent, but a sickening fear was building deep within him.   
  
The thought of  _ never  _ being able to walk again was a terrifying one. William was quite vain, and no one would find him an imposing figure if he was sitting in a wheelchair.   
  
Hah…and that was assuming he even got out of here alive. Sebastian had just said he was going to die down here, after all.   
  
“I…I don’t want…to die,” he said hoarsely, eyes dark-ringed and tired. “Sebastian, listen…that day, something awful had happened to me. I was broken, and I took it out on you. I know I was wrong, and I’m certain I can make it up to you somehow.”   
  
How low he had fallen already, pleading for his life.   
  
“Give me a chance. I’ll do anything. I will, p-please.” William was already conjuring ideas. “I-I’ll pleasure you. I’ll be your slave – anything you want. Just…please.”   
  
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” Sebastian whispered, pushing William’s face away with his shoe. “Explaining to me why you were a subhuman puddle of bile to me that day is only an attempt to excuse yourself and justify your cruelty. You had a job to do and you let your personal life interfere. I don’t need to hear the story.”   
  
Sebastian considered William, though; those weren’t bad suggestions. “You can’t make it up to me,” he told William right out, taking a step back and turning away from him. “No matter how much you repent.”   
  
The raven stepped to the bottom of his cellar stairs, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll give you some time to think about that while I decide precisely what I’d like to do with you next. I do hope that the floor is comfortable enough for you,” he said softly, and then made his ascent up the stairs.

 

No sooner had those words passed William’s lips than had he regretted them.    
  
“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” he cursed himself, holding his head in his hands. How quickly he had broken. No– no! He could not let this happen to him.    
  
His father would never be so weak _. For god’s sake, William, you didn’t even try to escape before bending to his will…!  _ __  
  


It was unacceptable. This was not William T. Spears, powerful and authoritative in every regard. No, he would not pleasure him. He would not be his slave, or do anything he did not wish to. He would not let Sebastian take his dignity, or his life.    
  
Alone and in agony, fuelled with pain and fury, William started to formulate a plan.    
  
He was physically at a disadvantage, which meant that the only way he was likely to get out of here alive was if Sebastian…was dead. There was also nothing in this room that he could use as a weapon; Sebastian was too smart for that.   
  
But William figured something out. Now, all he could do was wait for the psychopathic raven to come back.    
  
Sebastian didn’t return for several hours. This time, the food he arrived with was cold and even plainer than before – mere sliced bread that had been left out and gotten hard. It was no longer soft or fluffy like the golden toast that had been brought to William previously.   
  


Two slices of bread were set onto the foot of the bed, and cold eyes were turned onto the unwilling prisoner.    
  
“I think you’ve had ample time to think about what the consequences of your actions will be,” Sebastian informed William with an empty smile. “Don’t you? Now eat your dinner, William. It’ll be a while yet before your next meal.”

 

\---

 

Having to wait all those hours for Sebastian to return was maddening for his prisoner.    
  


William had listened keenly to the man’s movements upstairs all day, but so far had been unable to discern any type of schedule. Sebastian did what he wanted.    
  
It didn’t affect William’s plan, but time certainly did. If he’d had to wait any longer, the whole thing would have been impossible. With each passing minute, the pain in his body grew more intense, as morphine loosened its numbing grip on his shattered skeleton. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to move at all. And there was something else he’d almost waited too long for, as well.    
  
“I…I’ve had time to think,” William answered demurely, looking up at the plate of food on the bed. He couldn’t reach it, nor did he want it. “…You are…the one in control. And since I was the one who treated you so badly…I-I should just…accept the punishment I’m due. I can’t…do anything about it anyway. My body is broken, and even the slightest movements cause overwhelming torment. I don’t have to like it, but…this is my fate.”    
  
He shifted slightly where he sat, biting at his lower lip. Christ, he couldn’t sit still. So many extreme sensations in his body all at once…. But he needed Sebastian to buy his submission.   
  
Sebastian stared intensely at William for a very long time, saying nothing. He looked him up and down, his gaze piercing into William’s eyes, searching him for treachery.    
  
“Well, you aren’t wrong,” he declared after an uncomfortably long time, tossing his head. “But do you really believe it yourself, or do you merely want something?”   
  
He inclined his head downward, indicating William’s squirming. “A restroom, perhaps?”

 

William naturally pinkened at the abrupt question. It seemed he would have to give up a little dignity in order to preserve it in the long run.    
  
“I…I can’t help that. It doesn’t…take away from what I’m saying. I-I would have said the same thing if I didn’t need…to go. And I’ll say the same thing when it’s over.”    
  


His whole plan rested on being permitted upstairs to use the toilet he knew was up there. Actually needing to go made the act all the more convincing.    
  
“Please, will you…take me…?”    
  
“I can think of many ways I’ll take you,” Sebastian replied with a crooked smile, being deliberately inappropriate. “But I suppose I can afford you this one luxury. I am not a complete monster.”   
  
Without waiting for a reply, Sebastian knelt down by William’s side and picked him up. “You can’t rely on a bedpan forever,” the raven hummed thoughtfully as he carried William up the stairs, but he furrowed his brow in irritation. “But what a bother. Will I be doing this every time? Perhaps I’ll have to fashion a makeshift toilet for you to use instead.”   
  
He was not gentle with William as he carried him up the creaking, rickety stairs to the house; he left his prisoner’s legs free to dangle and bump into each other rather than secure them.    
  
The house itself proved to be every bit as shabby as its cellar, if not worse; it was almost completely bare of furniture, and what was there was close to falling apart. It was tidy and as clean as could be in the circumstances, but things like a bowling ball-sized hole in the ceiling with exposed, rotting beams made it clear that Sebastian really did not have the funds to repair his home.    
  
The bathroom that William was brought to consisted of a tiny and very cold 4′x4′ tiled room with a stall shower with no door or curtain, a steadily dripping, rusty shower head, a crumbling pedestal sink, and a toilet that had seen better days. There was a small mirror above the sink, half blackened with age, and one small window adjacent to the sink. It was large enough for a grown man to crawl through.    
  
“Well…here you go,” Sebastian offered, somewhat abruptly setting William down onto the toilet seat.

 

William had been watching Sebastian’s home with hawk-like observation.   
  
Dr. Spears was incredibly smart- enough to prepare for the event that he didn’t succeed today. He made a mental blueprint of Sebastian’s house in his mind for later, and his photographic memory would keep it safe.    
  


Though, it was hard to concentrate when every bump on his legs was agonizing enough to nearly make him black out again.    
  
“Oof-!”    
  
William landed hard on the seat, and had to bite down on his tongue not to cry out.    
  


“Th…thank you..” he mumbled thickly, reaching out to steady himself on the sink. The next heavily uncertain part of his plan rested on whether or not Sebastian had the decency to leave the room while William took care of business. 

 

Miraculously enough, he did.    
  
The second the door closed, William looked around the dank room for anything he could use as a weapon. In his initial plannings, he’d had fantasies of using tape to secure a shaving razor to a toothbrush, but when he’d leaned over and opened up the medicine cabinet, he found a pair of hairdressing scissors, orange with rust.    
  
Not to mention rows packed of various pills and medications. Some of it had to be whatever Sebastian was giving William for pain management. In a moment of impulse, William grabbed a bottle of the first thing that looked appropriate and shoved a handful of them in the pocket of his boxers.    
  
“Don’t look at me that way, Vincent,” Sebastian muttered bitterly as he searched his house for supplies. “You’ve been giving me that face all week.”   
  
Vincent said nothing; instead, his lovely dark eyes just watched Sebastian with sadness and pity. Sebastian avoided them at all costs.   
  
“I’m doing what I must. I must,” he half-pleaded. “It is justice. He had it coming. Stop looking at me like that…”   
  
Vincent was no longer there to look at him that way. Sebastian almost sighed in relief. He turned away and made his way back to his tiny, pitiful water closet with an old paint barrel. At this point, he estimated William must have had five minutes to himself, and he knocked on the door to get his attention.   
  
“That should be long enough,” he decided authoritatively. “I’ve given you plenty of time to do what needs doing. Now hurry out or you will lose the privilege of privacy.”

 

William’s heart skipped a beat, and with as much stealth as he could muster, he closed the medicine cupboard and settled back onto the toilet.  The pills were in his pockets and the rusty scissors were stashed in the back of his pants.    
  
Damn it, time was up already?    
  
“W-wait..” he muttered, wishing he could have at least gotten to do what one was supposed to do in here before Sebastian returned. But the man was already at the door and if William tried now, Sebastian would know he’d been up to something.    
  
Besides, William would be free to do what he liked when this mentally unstable man was dead, so he bit his lip and pressed the flush button for good measure.     
  
"You may come in now,” he called, forcing himself to sit absolutely still.    
  
“Ah, thank you very much for inviting me into my own bathroom in my own home,” Sebastian replied with heavy sarcasm as he gripped the doorknob and swung the door inward. “How welcoming of you.”   
  
His gaze turned down onto William, and he gave him a disdainful look. “Most people consider it rude to be told where they can go in their own home,” he explained condescendingly. “Please take note of that for future reference.”   
  
He paused for a moment, head tilted, and then added, “You seem to have replaced your undergarments remarkably quickly after flushing, haven’t you?”

 

William looked away uncomfortably.    
  
“I-I..did so beforehand…in the event that you might just…make your way in,” he muttered. If that were true, it would have been a sound prediction.    
  


The rusted steel of the scissors was cold and grating against his backside…if Sebastian felt it, or if a single pill were to fall out of his pockets, his whole plan would be foiled.    
  
It was foolish to grab those pills; doing so might have sabotaged the whole plan. Since when had he become so dependent on pain relief, anyway….?   
  
“I’m sorry for my transgression just now. I should instead have just let you know that I was finished. I misspoke,” he added diffidently, his head bowed. Looking down at his hands, he could see he was trembling, and covered in sweat. Not good.    
  
He didn’t want to give anything away…!    
  
Sebastian gave William another long, cold stare, searching him again for any signs of falsehood. The trembling, damp hands were noticed, which spoke to Sebastian as fear.   
  


Good. His captive was learning to fear him well.   
  
“Mm. I’ll still have you punished,” he decided, leaning down to pick William back up. “To truly teach you not to give me permission what to do on my property, little as it is.”

 

_ But I apologized…!  _ William thought in his head.    
  
No matter. It would be over in a minute.    
  
A weak groan left his body as Sebastian picked him up and threw him over his shoulder like a ragdoll – he nearly wet himself right there. But the brunet managed to steel himself and dutifully hold on – in all regards – as Sebastian carried him out of the bathroom.    
  
_ I didn’t get to wash my hands…!  _ the part of William’s brain that still thought it was free cried out, but it was abruptly stifled. _ Just stay calm.  _

 

He stared at the window in the bathroom, growing ever smaller as he was carried away. If only his legs weren’t broken, he could have made a break for freedom. Well, he was going to make one anyway.    
  


Slowly, William reached behind himself and slipped the scissors free of his waistband, still trying to keep all his weight limp so Sebastian wouldn’t grow suspicious.   
  
Sweat was genuinely dripping from William’s face right now, he was bright red, and with one sudden motion he pushed himself backwards.   
  


He could see Sebastian’s face now!!   
  
Gripping one arm around his captor’s neck so he didn’t fall, William thrust his scissors forward, straight towards one of Sebastian’s bloodshot eyes.    
  
_ Right into the brain – just fucking die!! _   



	3. Necessary Sacrifices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw violence, gore, smut, omo, drug use

Sebastian would have died if he had not jerked back and turned his head at precisely the right moment. Instead, the scissors gouged into his cheekbone, directly below his eye, and his head turning guided the scissors along his face in a downward motion back towards his ear and jaw. Blood sprayed from the gash, and Sebastian instinctively shoved William away, screaming in agony from the pain and shock.   
  
In the next moment, Sebastian’s bloodied hand struck William across his own face with monstrous, rage-fueled strength, and left a bloody handprint in its wake. The scissors were grabbed and thrown away, sent skidding across the old wooden floor and landing with a clatter. The raven seized his prisoner by the hair and yanked sharply at the scalp.   
  
“You tried to kill me,” he whispered, white with rage. “I knew I should never have trusted you for one moment. Rusted scissors — do you know I could get  _ tetanus _ from that, Dr. Spears? You evil bastard.”   
  
His other hand clamped around William’s throat. “You. You will pay. I’ll make you pay, again and again. I’ll make you  _ beg for death _ .”

 

William had landed badly — first on his broken ankle, then hard on both shattered knees. This time, he didn’t even get the bliss of passing out. Probably the sharp stinging from Sebastian’s blow to the face was keeping him alert.

 

“Tetanus?” was the only thing William could stammer. _ I was going to stab his eye out, and he’s concerned about tetanus? _

 

At which point the whole situation caught up with the poor brunet.

 

He’d been caught. His plan had failed in the worst way, and now he was going to suffer in all possible definitions of the word. Adrenaline faded, and true fear began to overwhelm him. Right now, a deranged, blood-soaked psycho had his hand around William's throat, crushing his windpipe. 

 

“N-no, stop,” he gasped. “P-please, I — I didn’t — ” 

 

There would be no sympathy…only suffering. 

 

Nothing would ever be gentle and warm for William again…unless it was the flood of urine spilling out between his thighs and soaking his boxers, as his body relaxed itself in fear. 

 

A weak, choking sob left his chest, his whole body trembling as he stared Sebastian in the eyes. 

 

“I had to…” he whispered, as oxygen deprivation began to take its toll on his brain and he finally began to go numb. “I had to.” That much, at least, was the truth. 

 

Sebastian was only seeing red. He’d been pushed over the edge again and there was nothing left of the handsome and gentle doctor he’d made himself out to be. Here he only had William by the throat, and was quite sincerely trying to throttle him, repeatedly hitting his prisoner’s head against the bathroom tile. The force was enough that the brittle ceramic cracked under each blow.

 

“You had to  _ what _ ?! Why didn’t you just  _ die _ ?!” Sebastian howled, blood running steadily from the wound on his face and onto his hands, making his grip slick. “If you’d just done me a favor and died when your car ran off the road…!!!  _ You _ did this!! You ugly, vile, pointless waste of space! I  _ hate _ you…!”

 

He lashed out again, mind blanking out from his fury, and struck William’s face side to side, back and forth, until blood gushed from his nose like a fountain. The raven’s chest seized up with each exhausted, pained, furious sob, and tears began to track down through the open wound on his face. Suddenly, he stood up and grabbed William by the ankle once more, and began to drag him through the house, back to the cellar.

 

Sebastian mercilessly just dragged William down the steps, splinters and all, and let him hit each one hard before he left him on the stone floor. “You had better savor that bread,” he rasped. “That is all you get for the next three days. The leak in the roof will be your water. I will not allow you any toilet, for that matter, either. That’s  _ your _ problem to deal with. Do you understand? You  _ lost _ that privilege for good. I will not trust another word out of your treacherous mouth.”

 

His lips pulled back in a half grimace, half smirk when he saw the state of William’s undergarments. “Soiling yourself suits you,” he taunted. “How disgusting. A disgusting act for a disgusting man. Have fun in that cold…”

 

Luckily, William was well and truly unconscious by that point, and didn’t have to endure the severe abuse that was being inflicted on him. He remained where Sebastian dumped him, mangled and deathly still.    
  
He didn’t wake up until well into the night, cold and wet, and his battered head glued to the floor by his own blood. And the agony he was in…! The morphine had well and truly left his body now, and he was feeling every overwhelming stab of pain at its full power.    
  
It was dark, and he was miserable and alone. His skin was almost blue with the cold, so William used what little remained of his strength to pull himself up into bed and crawl under the covers — the one nice thing he had left. As thick tears gathered in his eyes, he reached down into his pocket and took out one of the pain management pills he’d stolen earlier.    
  


It reeked of urine, naturally, but William was willing to endure that for a chance to ease some of his blinding pain. He swallowed it dry, then lay his head against the pillow, his body beginning to shake with pitiful sobs.    
  
It was pathetic and pitiful to cry, but he had nothing left. He wished he had died in that car crash, or even just before. Anything would be better than this. 

  
Sebastian did not check on William for a whole day. At least twenty four hours passed before Sebastian descended the cellar stairs, and when he did, there was no trace of the terrifying rage he’d flown into. He had even cleaned, stitched, and dressed the wound on his face, which was now partially obscured by gauze and medical tape. He greeted William with the charming smile that he used to before he revealed his true motives, as if nothing had even happened.    
  
“You must miss the morphine drip terribly at this point,” he commented innocuously, standing before the bed. “You feel it, don’t you? A burning need in your very blood for the medicine that will bring you peace.”   
  
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened, pulling back into a cruel smirk. “I’ll hook you back up to it for one hour on one condition,” he offered in a soft voice. “Would you like to hear it?”

 

William had spent that day trying to think of ways to make this situation better, but how could you hope for that when you’d tried to kill someone, especially when that someone was not mentally stable on the best of days?

 

The last day had been a blur. William just lay in bed in the cold, damp, dank basement of this dilapidated shack, feeling nothing but pain, and having no stimulation for his intelligent mind. He felt he was wasting away. The bread had yet to be touched, although William had repurposed the bucket that collected water from the roof leaks to be his waste disposal.

 

He was foolish enough to get his hopes up when Sebastian entered the room with a smile. 

 

_ Morphine? Yes, yes, please god, yes. _

 

No pill could truly quell his suffering, but the morphine could. The moment Sebastian’s pleasant smile contorted into a vicious smirk however, the brunet’s heart sank.

 

“What…condition would that be?” he asked hoarsely, and knowing whatever the answer might be, he would not like it.

 

Sebastian could barely conceal his delight. There was a gleam in his eye as he sat down on the bed and rested his chin on his knuckles, elbow perched on his knee. “The condition,” he said softly, “is that you suck my cock. And if you try anything — like, for example, biting me, — I will break that pretty nose of yours faster than you can blink, and you won’t receive one drop of my morphine. I will not hear a peep of a complaint, either; am I quite clear?”

 

Sebastian was pleased with himself, and already towering over William like a shadow. “And it had better be up to my standards,” he added. “If I don’t come, or if I don’t come hard enough, you will receive no drugs.” He seized William by the jaw and squeezed his cheeks together, ensuring that he had William’s full attention. “Lastly, if you deny me here, I will take you anyway, and you still won’t get my morphine. I’m going to have my way with you whether you like it or not.”

 

William kept his eyes averted, trying not to look at the nasty gash on his captor’s face as he listened to Sebastian’s offer. 

 

_ Very original. I can barely restrain my surprise _ , William thought flatly.

 

Okay. So Sebastian was going to sexually abuse him no matter what. At least, if William consented, he would get a lovely hour of morphine for his troubles, and he wouldn’t need to take another of his stolen pills, which were a precious commodity. 

 

“Very well,” he answered, folding his arms a little. It was a sure deal. William was a homosexual, and one of his many talents involved pleasuring and being pleasured by other men.

 

“I accept your condition. You won’t have to worry about being disappointed.” 

 

They never were, yet nonetheless, William was worried about disappointing. What would he lose if he failed? What if Sebastian pulled his teeth out? The poor brunet froze up a little at the thought, his heart beginning to race. He was scared…but he couldn’t let Sebastian know. 

 

Sebastian continued to smile pleasantly, and his raven locks tumbled down his shoulders to tickle William’s cheeks. “Oh? You sound so confident. Am I to take this to mean you have experience in this field?” he asked sardonically. “How surprising…truly.”

 

He gently slapped William’s cheek with the back of his hand before drawing back. “I’m going to enjoy fucking and breaking that handsome face of yours, William,” he added amiably as he undid his trousers. “Don’t look so eager. This is for  _ my  _ pleasure, not yours. But for your sake, I hope you know how to take it deep.”

 

It seemed like a boast, but once he had his member free from his undergarments, it became clear that it was a  _ warning _ . The man was an absolute incubus. He was easily eight inches at rest, and his girth was strong. It was to say nothing of how potent he’d be once erect.

 

“Incidentally,” he posed to William, casually holding himself for his prisoner to see, “if your gag reflex is triggered and you vomit, I’ll make you eat it back up  _ and  _ I won’t give you any new food for an extra day. Even better…if you vomit on  _ me _ , I’ll pull one of your teeth out and positively  _ ruin  _ that pretty smile you have.”

 

_ Of course _ . William was in a hellish situation; it only made sense that he was dealing with an absolute  _ demon _ . 

 

_ Jesus christ _ . William wasn’t sure he’d even  _ had  _ one that large before, unless it was that lovely Indian man he’d dated once. The back of his neck prickled as he stared it down. Maybe William would get lucky and find that Sebastian was more of a shower than a grower. 

 

“...S...since when is fellatio supposed to be pleasurable for the p-person performing it, anyway?” he answered once he’d finally found his words again. “Curious question: have any of the others you’ve sexually abused ever not thrown up?”

 

William was confident that if he’d willingly wanted to take a man of this size, he might be able to. But in this situation, where he was weak and sick and in tremendous pain, and most certainly unaroused, things wouldn’t go so smoothly. 

 

“Personally, I have a bit of an oral fixation and actually quite enjoy being on the giving end of fellatio,” Sebastian replied, stroking William’s hair with a false tenderness. His smile was ever empty; even strained. “As for your second query, I really do insist that I’m punishing you. You are the first person I ever  _ have _ punished, and only because fate delivered you into my hands. No one… _ no one _ else on this earth has been punished by me. But there have been several who could not bypass their gag reflexes with me. The result is truly disgusting.”

 

He pushed his hips closer to William’s face and pressed his incredible member to William’s cheek, rubbing it against his skin and dragging the tip of it to William’s lips. “If you’re so confident, however, it won’t be a problem,” he added. “I suggest that you get started. And remember: if you bite, you  _ pay _ .”

 

William cringed instinctively as Sebastian’s cock was dragged across his cheek; there had to be a first time for everything.

 

“Right, like I’d forget. It’s only my  _ teeth _ at stake,” he retorted miserably. “I guess you and I have different perceptions of what ‘disgusting’ is.”

 

A psychopath who took helpless car crash victims, drugged, starved and abused them in all conceivable aspects… _ that _ was disgusting. William swallowed a little and turned his head to the monster waiting to forcefully penetrate his throat. Dear god…

 

“O-okay. I’m…I’m ready to do it,” he finally decided, dropping his rebellious tones. That wouldn’t win him any precious morphine. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity.”

 

He raised his broken hands to lightly caress the girthy cock, breathing in its masculine scent, and giving it a small lick to start off with.

 

_ …Just pretend it’s the man who treated you so kindly…You should have married him, William. Any of them…. _

 

_ It might have saved you from this hell. _

 

Sebastian wasn’t impressed by the tentative lick. He raised an eyebrow in boredom, and much more aggressively pushed the head of his cock against William’s lips. “Perhaps I misheard you, but I was under the impression that you were  _ experienced _ ?” he asked in irritation. “You aren’t off to a good start.”

 

William’s touch was clumsy, as well, and Sebastian wasn’t going to accept ‘broken hands’ as an excuse, monster that he was. 

 

“Are you  _ afraid _ ?” he challenged, narrowing his eyes. “How disappointing. I thought you had more fire than that. I’d suggest you try harder, Spears. Show me something worthy of moaning your name. Live up to your boasts.”

 

His cock twitched eagerly against William’s soft, narrow lips. Sebastian’s patience had worn thin, and he wanted this to truly begin.

 

“Am I ‘afraid’…?” William echoed, shaking his head in disbelief. What a stupid bloody question. 

 

He normally worked at a much gentler pace. But if Sebastian just wanted it rough, then so be it. William licked his lips and enveloped Sebastian’s large, firm cock in his mouth. His tongue swathed the warm flesh in saliva and he eased it deeper slowly, taking care to breathe through his nose. Sebastian would inevitably throat-fuck him, and William wouldn’t even dare to let himself gag. 

 

Slowly but surely, he maneuvered it down his throat, a little at a time, until he felt Sebastian’s dark garden of curls against his cheek. Made it…how surprising. 

 

“N-nh...” the brunet whimpered, closing his eyes as he felt Sebastian harden. Just stay calm. Think of someone else. Think of being anywhere else. William knew he could pleasure this man.

 

Now that he was starting to adjust, he settled his hands on Sebastian’s hips. 

 

Sebastian buried his hand into William’s hair, tangling his fingers into the dark brown locks, and held him in place. William’s mouth was delightfully warm and wet, and the raven gave him an insatiable look. “Why don’t you look at me with those lovely silver eyes of yours?” he asked, his tone making it clear it wasn’t a suggestion. 

 

His other hand gently stroked William’s chin, and a finger traced his lips. “I  _ am  _ surprised that you can take me,” he confessed, pressing the back of his hand to William’s cheek. “You really are as experienced as you claimed. Now let’s see what else you can do, shall we?”

 

And with that, he pulled his hips back, so only the tip of his cock remained in William’s mouth, and then thrust them forward again, all the way down William’s throat.

 

At least William had been expecting this, and given that he’d already eased it down his throat, he was a little better prepared for the crude action. Naturally, he choked, but it was past his gag reflex, and he managed despite his eyes beginning to water. He obeyed Sebastian’s order and raised his glacial eyes unto his captor’s pleasure-ridden face, hoping that Sebastian would not mistake his tears for fear or sorrow. William followed by tightening his lips around the man’s shaft and beginning his rhythm, letting the flesh slide back and forth in his mouth. 

 

There went his fantasies of pretending it was someone more desirable. He had to look the bastard in the eyes now as he pleasured him.

 

Sebastian smiled thinly, eyes narrowed with satisfaction, and he began to move his hips in time with William’s mouth, meeting the same rhythm. His hands tightened in William’s hair, and he stared intensely into his victim’s eyes to memorize the sight.

 

The tears just made it all the more delicious, wherever they came from. This was the man who had destroyed every last chance Sebastian had had at peace, and here he was paying his dues. It was poetic. The room was silent except for the slap of flesh on flesh and Sebastian’s groans and sighs.

 

It took only a few minutes of this for Sebastian to reach his climax, and he groaned soft and low, abruptly yanking William’s head forward, fully sheathing himself, and moaned with pleasure as he orgasmed and emptied his seed down William’s throat. He withdrew slowly, still oozing semen, and left plenty on William’s tongue and lips before he pulled himself out entirely.

 

“Now be a good boy and swallow,” he said softly, his fingers abandoning William’s hair and stroking under his chin.

 

William noticeably grimaced when Sebastian ejaculated forcefully into his esophagus, but resisted the urge to cough until Sebastian had pulled back. 

 

He swallowed quickly and broke into a series of coughing until he was able to breathe properly again, and wiped his face with his bruised fingers. 

 

_ What an absolute cunt _ , he thought viciously as he opened his mouth to confirm that he had indeed swallowed. There was a sense of pride in it all, though…he’d done exactly as Sebastian had asked him, and he’d earned the morphine that would return him to the only damn semblance of happiness that he would receive in this place. 

 

“A-are you content?” William asked hoarsely when it was done, still cringing as the raven stroked his chin. He noticed that he had some light stubble there now, which he quite hated..but it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it. 

 

“Did I do well?” 

 

Sebastian smiled emptily down at William, rubbing his thumb back and forth over William’s lips in a falsely-affectionate stroke. “ _ Very _ well,” he purred, stroking William’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You did manage to satisfy me. It’s no simple feat, dear William. Even if you made that dreadfully ugly grimace right at the very end, trying not to cough.”

 

He stared down at William for an uncomfortably long stretch of silence, watching him, examining him. 

 

“But you  _ have  _ earned the reward that I promised you for good behavior,” he finally decided, leaning back a little. “I am not  _ completely  _ heartless. I will give you back the morphine drip for a limited time.”

 

William’s pupils dilated immediately, and his demeanour quickly changed. 

 

“…Y...yes, thank you,” he whispered, his broken body trembling. He felt chilly, his body ached all over, and he was covered in a cold sweat. He needed the morphine, and if Sebastian took it away William feared that even he, a grown man with far more stoicism than was typical, might burst into tears. 

 

“I will behave,” he uttered. 

 

“Good,” Sebastian murmured in satisfaction, drawing his hand away. “You learn quickly. Then as promised, I’ll bring you the drug that you so crave.”

 

He left William there for several minutes while he climbed back up the cellar stairs to retrieve the IV drip. He had William hooked back up to it in no time, pumping him full of the painkillers once more. 

 

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he asked softly, stroking William’s hair. “If you keep up your good behavior, you get rewarded, don’t you? That’s how it works. A good boy will always get his medicine.”

 

His tone remained ever condescending, but with the distinct note of parental discipline, like a father teaching his young child their manners.

 

Sebastian couldn’t have known how William would respond to that particular attitude and that it was in fact the key to William’s unyielding obedience. 

 

William had daddy issues, that was really the best term for it, and being spoken to in such a manner brought a soft smile to the brunet’s face, especially once the drug was coursing through his veins and soothing his suffering. 

 

“Yes,” he repeated softly. “Thank you, Sebastian…”  He loved being pet by him; it was such a calming gesture, despite its false intentions. Part of him knew it was wrong, and foolish — humiliating, even — but with a blossoming addiction to the opiates that quelled the agony of his shattered legs, nothing mattered except getting that fix. 

 

“This is fine…” 

 

Sebastian leaned neatly down and kissed William on the lips, holding his chin in place. “Good,” he repeated with a glint in his eye. “Just as it ought to be.”

 

_ “This isn’t you.”  _

 

Sebastian’s grip on William’s chin tightened, and the stroking paused briefly. Vincent had come to torment him again, had he? The raven glanced briefly back to where the haunting of his poor lover stood, but he couldn’t stand to look at him.

 

He could still smell the charred flesh of his family if he looked. He could never see them normal and happy in his mind’s eye. Just burning alive and crying with pain and terror.

 

Abruptly, Sebastian released William and stood up straight once more. “Enjoy your time while it lasts,” he said coldly, glancing at dull, battered watch on his wrist. “I will be back on the hour to remove you from it.”

 

Sebastian’s spell on William began to fade once the dark, attractive male stood up and left. 

 

That feeling of self loathing was all that was left when there was nothing to seduce the brunet. The knowledge that he’d utterly given up his dignity for even a drop of morphine, and how he, previously such a powerful man, submitted himself entirely in hope that he would not be harmed. The taste of Sebastian’s lips lingered, however. The effect it had on William’s body only added to his shame. The ridge in the sheets was clear and accusing, and William couldn’t bear to look at it. Even now, held captive by a man who wished him great harm, that side of him responded to Sebastian’s sly seductions. 

 

William could hate him more if he was ugly…

 

Now, though, was the time to let his negative feelings leave him. Much more powerful than the pills he’d stolen, the morphine filled his body and he began to get that wonderful floating feeling. 

 

“Ha…aa…” he sighed, shutting his eyes, and enjoying his brief bliss. It was good enough that the guilt began to fade, too, and he became more conscious of his arousal.

 

Rock solid by now, and feeling as good as he did, William reached under the sheets and began to touch himself. Alas, before he could reach climax, he eventually drifted off into euphoric morphine dreams, and that was that.

 

And as promised, Sebastian removed William from the morphine after precisely one hour, and not a second longer. William had already fallen asleep by then, and Sebastian most certainly noticed the raging, powerful erection that his prisoner had managed to sustain, even in deep sleep. 

 

Sebastian’s gaze lingered upon it, and he gave it long consideration, but he did not touch it. Not yet. The things he had done, he realized, had a most desirable effect. He was under no illusions about how handsome and desirable he was, even to the point of narcissism — and he had no doubt that he was alluring even to someone he was torturing. 

 

If he continued to play his cards right, he’d have a beautiful case of Stockholm Syndrome on his hands.

 

The devil smiled, already formulating a plan.

 

When he left the basement with the IV drip, he did not open the door again for two whole days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! it's been a while! thanks for reading, and if you want us to post more regularly, be sure to leave a nice review and subscribe!! :D lots of love  
> \-- clear and pie


	4. Self Terminate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will dun goofed.

Two days.

 

Left alone to starve and suffer, William was left with a fearful revelation.

 

If he hadn’t stolen those pills, then two days without painkillers would have killed him. Maybe not literally, but the pain would have driven him close to insanity. And Sebastian, purportedly a medical doctor once upon a time, damn well knew it and had done it regardless.

 

That was frightening.

 

William only permitted himself to take one pill each day, even if his legs were screaming by the end. Who knew how often Sebastian would do this, and how long it would be before William would have another opportunity to access the medication? He had to use them sparingly.

 

William was also smart enough to know that his suffering was Sebastian’s intention. When his captor returned, William would have to play the part, or risk alerting him.

 

Staying in bed, and appearing as weak and withdrawn as possible, except in the brief moments that he forced himself from the cot to do his business…and that was the fault in his plan, because while William was in transit from the cot to the waste bucket, he heard Sebastian coming down the stairs.

 

An overwhelming sense of dread overtook the poor psychologist. He looked back to the bed, knowing he’d never be able to jump back in before Sebastian came. If he was caught here, Sebastian would figure out what was going on. Unless…

 

The brunet had a wild idea. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it might fool Sebastian for a little longer.

 

When Sebastian descended the stairs, he had most certainly expected to see William in horrific pain and suffering from severe withdrawal symptoms from being cut off from morphine again. What he hadn’t expected, however, was to find William lying on the floor in the middle of the room with a pool of urine beneath him.

 

The crimson face of mortification, the yellow tinge of the liquid…Sebastian glanced in the direction William was facing, spotting that one of his water-catching pails had been moved to the furthest corner of the room from the bed — it became immediately obvious what was in it now. Well, good; if William had instead gone indiscriminately on the floor itself, Sebastian was going to have to punish him quite heavily.

 

But this…a genuine accident?

 

Sebastian actually laughed.

 

“Oh, _my_ ,” he taunted with a cruel grin, elegantly concealing his mouth with one hand. “Had an accident, have we? That’s so unfortunate. How does it feel to become a helpless infant again, William?”

 

William shuddered, hunching in on himself, feeling pierced by Sebastian’s mocking gaze.

 

“I-I-I had to try,” he whispered, hiding his face in his hands. “I di…I didn’t want to wet myself again..! But the pain became too much and I couldn’t move… I-I couldn’t hold on...please, S-Sebastian, hook me back up…it hurts. It hurts so awfully.”

 

The brunet was playing his best impression of what he believed a pathetic morphine addict looked like, even going so far as to intentionally piss his trousers so that his sinister captive would not realise he’d stolen pain pills and was only in very minor stages of withdrawal.

 

It was mortifying, without a doubt — William had never felt more disgusting — but the shame outweighed how badly he’d feel after being brutally beaten for stealing.

 

Sebastian stepped into the room and stood over William, his shoes just shy of the puddle underneath his captive. “Is that so?” he asked, his smile remaining and gaze softening. “But you’ve made such a mess. I don’t think I should reward you when you’ve only made it necessary to clean the floor, yourself, _and_ your clothes…do _you_?”

 

He crouched down, one hand perched on his knee, and lightly brushed William’s hair out of his face.

 

“I’ll have to take you up to the shower. And this time, I’ve taken measures to ensure that you do _not_ attempt to stab me with any supplies from my medicine cabinet.”

 

William looked away, seemingly struggling to catch his breath, scarlet to the tips of his ears. “I couldn’t…h-hold on...” he repeated, a false waver in his voice. “It hurt too much to move. I can’t…move...”

 

He did his best to look utterly overwhelmed by his pain, trembling under the sheer intensity of it, and kept his head bowed in submission.

 

“P…please…just the morphine…” he whimpered, every ounce of him desperately hoping that he was fooling this demon. Come to think of it, though, a shower would be lovely… He hadn’t had a single one in all his time here, and was very aware of the fact.

 

How messed up one’s priorities could be…

 

Sebastian stared him down intensely, a frown appearing on his face, and deepening as he looked William over. These symptoms…broken bones aside, muscle aches would certainly have accounted for William’s failure to reach his waste bucket in time, but…things were amiss. William was also very embarrassed, but his eyes were dry, as was his nose. Sweat…normal for the situation.

 

Sebastian was a doctor. He’d had people come to him faking symptoms before, and he knew exactly how to sniff it out. Something was amiss, and he’d sniff this out too.

 

“No,” he said quietly. “Shower first. Look at you, soaked in your own urine. That’s disgusting.”

 

The raven picked William up without waiting for permission, and got the urine stains on his own clothes at once. “Tch…we’ll _both_ have to shower,” he tutted, carrying William up the stairs. “You cumbersome menace.”

 

William froze, the moment Sebastian began to look him over, analyzing him, and no doubt finding him lacking the appropriate symptoms for severe morphine withdrawal. The brunet had to wrack his brain, sure he’d learned about it in med school so long ago. Photographic memory, why did you have to fail now…?

 

Sebastian’s sharp insults caused William further shame, as he began to fear that he’d done this all for nothing. _No…no, he doesn’t know anything. Surely…he’s been fooled._

 

“I…am not entirely sure what you expected, Mr. Michaelis, neglecting a c-crippled patient for upwards of 2 days,” he couldn’t help retorting, his bruised ego throbbing along with his many other broken bones. He bit down on his tongue to avoid making any further sort of sound, a witticism, a whimper, a cry.

 

It all hurt so fucking badly.

 

Sebastian brought William back up into the fated, frigidly cold bathroom, where last time the psychologist had stolen rusted scissors and attempted to murder his captor. To no avail, unfortunately. The evidence was on Sebastian’s once flawless face, now covered in surgical gauze.

 

How badly had William injured him….?

 

“You’re so noisy,” Sebastian complained as he brought William up the stairs. “I’ve never had such a mouthy patient in my life. Where do you get the unmitigated _gall…_?”

 

The bathroom was as cold as ever, the amount of tile only increasing the chill inside. The medicine cabinet no longer had a door, and the bottles of painkillers and antidepressants sat out in the open, taunting William and reminding me what he couldn’t (or shouldn’t) have.

 

Sebastian sat William down on the toilet lid again just as he had before so that he could turn the shower on. The rusty shower head sputtered weakly to life and spat out a pitiful stream of water, but it was enough to bathe oneself beneath. Whether or not it would be even remotely warm remained to be seen.

 

Sebastian pulled his jacket off, followed by his shirt, and stood in the small bathroom with a bare chest and back exposed to the cold. Most startling, however, was the amount of cruel, yawning scars and burns covering his skin, marring it forever.

 

Just as another retort was churning away in William’s mind, his attention was stolen by the sight of his kidnapper pulling off his shirt.

 

Normally, the sight of a handsome man undressing gave even stoic William a gentle fluttering feeling in his stomach. Today, he felt a brick of dread drop dully within him, and he instinctively wrapped his arms across his abdomen as he was confronted with the myriad of terrible burn scars mutilating that pale, alabaster torso.

 

He had to look away.

 

“…D…did you… ever get medical attention for those…?” he asked quietly, feeling sympathy for the trauma that Sebastian had endured, but trying quickly to force it down. Surely, if he didn’t, he’d throw up.

 

Sebastian glanced sharply at William over his shoulder and then turned around to face him. “When I was pulled from the the fire against my will,” he replied contemptuously. “I was treated at once, but I had no way to pay for it, so I did not receive further treatment. They’d kept me alive, but couldn’t have cared less if I suffered.”

 

He turned his head away. “I was forced to take care of my own wounds after that, using the cheapest ingredients I could scrounge up at corner drugstores. Even if I _had_ received regular, professional medical attention in sterile environments, I doubt that I would have ever completely healed properly.”

 

He did not smile, and there was a tone of deep bitterness in his voice. “Why? Does it repulse you, as well?”

 

William shook his head.

 

“It does not,” he replied honestly. “I’ve seen my share of scars. When you have time off from torturing me, perhaps on another one of your two-day neglection stints, might I suggest getting a hold of coconut oil? It’s excellent for healing scars such as yours. Aloe vera, lemon, honey…these will prove useful as well.”

 

The ridiculousness of trying to help a man who wanted to harm him was not lost on William, but the brunet had found an unexpected reserve of empathy — he could see something resembling self-consciousness from Sebastian, regarding his scars.

 

That was something William knew plenty about, himself.

 

_Stop it, you fool._

 

William pressed his damp thighs together and stared at the floor in annoyance at himself, biting his lip.

 

Sebastian remained still for a very long moment, his arms at his sides, head turned away, and expression unreadable.

 

After a near eternity, he turned his head just a fraction, watching William from only his peripheral vision. “…Why on earth would you offer help to me?” he asked listlessly, turning slowly back to face his captive. “After all I’ve done to you?”

 

The raven glanced away quickly. “Coconut oil,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “That _would_ be an effective counterbalance to the drying properties of aloe vera, wouldn’t it? I suppose, one day I ought to try, shouldn’t I…?”

 

William didn’t reply, though his gaze flicked briefly over his arms, where there had once been very noticeable scars — scars no sort of mental health professional could be seen wielding, and so…they had to be made to disappear. At least, as much as possible. Only if one was at intimate levels of closeness would such wounds be possible to make out, and…who was ever going to be that close?

 

 _No one, ever again_ , William thought dryly, starting to remove his clothes as best he could, though with broken limbs it was an arduous process. As a germaphobe, he was eager to wash and be clean again.  And it was a damned shame that Sebastian would not trust him with a shaving razor, because William found his own stubble unsightly.

 

 _No one, ever again, thanks to this man. Damn the stubble. If he gave me a razor, I’d try to cut his throat_.

 

Sebastian turned to speed up the process of undressing William; namely, by pulling his clothes off for him. He’d grown impatient, especially so by the lack of a reply, and so he’d taken it upon himself to make this go faster. He hated having his time wasted.

 

He was still not gentle whatsoever; he ignored his ‘patient’’s injuries and forced his wet clothes off of him. William’s shirt was easy enough, but when Sebastian began pulling William’s pants off, as well, the worst possible thing for William happened.

 

There was a quiet rattle: the sound of small objects clattering to the tile floor.

 

Sebastian froze for a second, glancing down and looking to see what had fallen, and when he did, he paled with rage all over again. They were pills. His pills.

 

His painkillers.

 

They had been stolen.

 

Now the lack of withdrawal symptoms from his victim made sense — he had stolen these opiate-based painkillers and lessened his own pain.

 

Without a second thought, Sebastian pulled his arm back and slugged William across the face with his full strength.

 

“You _wretch_ …!!!”

 

It seemed like time had utterly slowed to a stop.

 

The moment William heard the fateful rattle of his precious painkillers scattering across the floor, his heart plummeted.

 

 _Well, William. This is one outcome you should have fucking expected_ , he thought, milliseconds before Sebastian’s masculine fist collided with his cheekbone and sent him crashing into the sink basin, which broke under the force of his body and carved two dual gashes up his arm as he hit the icy tile floor.

 

At this point, William didn’t remember what it felt like not to be in pain. It was merely a state of being.

 

Perhaps, he’d get lucky, and Sebastian might murder him already. Anything for relief from incomparable physical pain and the horrors of morphine withdrawal.

 

He looked up slowly, utterly done with begging now. There was no apology in his startling gaze.

 

“Again,“ William whispered, holding his cheek, “I don’t know why you’re so outraged that I would do this. I was merely trying to stay alive…since you’re doing a poor job of keeping me that way.”

 

It was just a little disconcerting, the way his jaw crunched when he tried to speak.

 

Sebastian’s response was to grab William by the hair and throw him into the shower stall, which rained water down upon him that was so cold each drop was like its own knife.

 

“They were _mine_ !!” he roared, slapping William’s face from the other side, using the back of his hand. “What precious little I have and you’ve stolen from me!! Do you know the kind of pain these burns give me every day?! My medicine is meant to alleviate that and you took it from me!! How dare you! How _dare_ you!!”

 

He got up and began kicking William while he was down, kicking his ribs and his guts and his arms, kicking the man’s broken legs. “HOW MUCH MORE DO YOU PLAN TO KEEP TAKING FROM ME?!”

 

William was left bruised, broken and bleeding in the shower while Sebastian screamed at him, his words drifting in one ear and out the other. The brunet blacked out once or twice during all of this abuse, but he didn’t feel the terror that he had the last time he’d been caught breaking rules.

 

This time his mind preferred to shut down than deal with this again.

 

“{ _What a deluded man_ ,}” he murmured, barely conscious. “I do pity you, Michaelis….”

 

Then Sebastian’s boot connected with his temple, slamming his head against the tiles of the shower, and they cracked under the strain. That was it for William, who could vaguely recall the sensation of swallowing one of his own teeth before he was belted into unconscious.

 

Sebastian stood over William’s unconscious body, breathing hard, and his fists curled tight. He trembled with all of the hatred in the world, staring down at this man with pure and utter loathing. The fact that his abuse no longer seemed to have any effect on the man was all the more infuriating, and all he could do was just stand there and _stare_. Stare and hate him with his entire soul.

 

The raven gave himself a few minutes to calm down and relax enough to forcibly wash William’s unconscious, limp body, and dry it off before putting him in too-large clothes and throwing him back onto his bed. For good measure, he used a zip tie to force William’s hands behind his back, ensuring that his prisoner had no means of escape _or_ stealing ever again. He would not even be able to use the restroom on his own. From now on, he would be watched like a hawk.

 

Sebastian would not leave this man unattended for a very long time. William had lost the privileges of privacy and solitude for good.

 

Well…not quite.

 

William had no idea, but he was still in for quite a fair bit of solitude. It seemed his captor had come up with a more efficient way to torture him.

 

Unconsciousness was dark, and William had a good twelve hours of it. When he awoke after that, he quite reasonably expected it to be light…or to at least to be able to glimpse the stars through the little peephole window that reached above ground.

 

There was nothing…nothing but total, encompassing darkness. Twelve hours without painkillers had quite dulled his senses to anything but the agony of his shattered legs, but even he eventually realized something was very, very wrong.

 

He could feel his own breath, as if he were covering his mouth. No — something else was.

 

A…an oxygen mask? Perhaps he had coded, nearly killed in Sebastian’s carnal rage?

 

The psychologist could also feel that his legs were bent, raised towards his chest. Broken knees were not meant to bend, so they had to have been forced into this position.

 

All at once, William began to panic. He could feel the top of his head touching a hard surface, like he were sitting under a small table. His back, and his toes were touching hard surfaces too, which meant…

 

…He was in a very, very tiny space.

 

William thrust his hands out, and it became apparent he was in a cramped box. Locked in, with an oxygen mask over his face that ran through a taped-over hole in the side, so that he did not suffocate.

 

“N..no, no… _no_ , S-Sebastian, no…! Please let me out! _Please_!” His voice felt very muffled. It didn’t seem like any sound was getting out.

 

Then an even worse thought hit him — what if he’d been buried alive…?

 

A slow and pleasant smile spread across Sebastian’s lips, and he watched the little iron safe he’d locked William into with a tender expression. “Ah,” he said softly to the box, leaning down closer to it and running his fingers along its smooth, cold surface, “would you like to come out? Are you uncomfortable, William?”

 

He laid his cheek down on the side of the lockbox, embracing it lightly, and closed his eyes, looking positively serene. “But you were disobedient,” he told William, “so I’m afraid you must be punished. I haven’t decided how long to keep you in there. But don’t worry…I won’t let you die.”

 

He nodded in agreement with himself, hugging the safe like it was his lover. “No, no, of course not. I couldn’t let you die. That would be too kind. Much, _much_ too kind. What do you think, William? Isn’t this much nicer?”

 

This was not ‘much nicer’ by any stretch.

 

Most people would have gone into an absolute meltdown right now. William was much more composed than most people…but he also happened to be a severe claustrophobe. While it was unlikely that Sebastian knew this, he would quickly learn…he’d keyed in on one of William’s weakest points.

 

“No, no, no, Sebastian, you need to let me out, I can’t breathe, p-please, I’m going to die, _please_ …!” the brunet pleaded, in a voice so terrified that it did not even sound like his own, especially when it was reverberating in the iron box.

 

“Please, it hurts,” he sobbed, thumping the back of his head against the wall in desperation. “I’ll do anything!”

 

Sebastian delicately patted the safe’s cold surface and shushed William, like a parent shushing their child for comfort. “That’s quite impossible, I assure you,” he cooed, going back to stroking the iron. “You are hooked up to an oxygen tank with enough to last you…oh, perhaps three days. Even longer if you don’t hyperventilate. You can most certainly breathe. Why don’t you give it a try?”

 

He asked this in the same way one asked another to try a new food that may or may not have been unpleasant. His implication, however, was that it was good.

 

“You’re perfectly safe in there,” the devil went on, leaning his weight onto William’s prison. Outwardly, he was very calm, but on the inside, he was celebrating William’s fright. He most certainly had gotten through to him again, hadn’t he? Locking him up had been an excellent idea — he’d had to congratulate himself on that.

 

“Rather…you’re safer in there than you are out here in the open with me,” he suggested as pleasantly as ever. “So why don’t you treasure your time alone in there until I decide it’s time for you to come out?”

 

William fell silent for a few seconds. Safe from Sebastian, in here?

 

But phobias did not listen to rational thought, and for a good hour, he pleaded and begged and wept to be released. At that point, William couldn’t have even been able to answer his own name if he’d been asked, so completely distraught was he.

 

And eventually, he tired himself out. Sebastian wouldn’t let him die in here…

 

Sebastian did not want him to die.

 

Honestly, the brunet did not quite have the energy to keep carrying on in such a way. The pain in his legs had drained him of that. Totally exhausted, William passed out briefly, and awoke in thankfully a calmer state.

 

It was sort of unreal, not knowing how much time had passed. His internal clock was ceasing to function here, where it was dark. Time didn’t exist.

 

William needed to get out. He knew that Sebastian could keep him in here for days on end without concern for any of his basic human needs. Whenever William moved, there was a distinct crinkling from something around his waist, and he was quick to figure out just what it was.

 

How horrific.

 

Sebastian clearly did intend to keep him in here for a good long while, and that was something William was far too proud to let happen.

 

Begging and pleading had gotten William nowhere, and the psychologist was done. He was never going to walk again. He would spend the rest of his life as a plaything for this psychopath, being drugged and molested and beaten and punished.

 

William had no power, no control over his life…exactly as Sebastian wanted.

 

But Sebastian had made one major mistake. William did have control over one aspect of his life right now: the decision to end it.

 

Struggling to keep his breathing calm, thick tears on his cheeks, William silently reached up and removed the oxygen mask from his face, and tied the cord in a knot so that no more would leak out.

 

…This was fine.

 

If Sebastian had been even slightly less thorough on his crude life support examinations, William would have most certainly succeeded in killing himself. The raven kept a close watch on the oxygen tank, monitoring its levels at regular intervals. He never strayed far from the safe, and especially never for very long; William needed to stay alive, after all.

 

But when it became apparent that the amount of oxygen leaving the tank had not gone below the three quarters full mark for about two hours, it raised all kinds of alarms in Sebastian’s head. Why wasn’t it going down anymore? It had been steadily dropping for the past day, but now…it has come to a standstill. Immediately, Sebastian began inspecting the connections and attempting to communicate with his toy. He knew William had passed out from fright some time ago, but…had he pushed him too far?

 

There was nothing wrong with the hookups or any of the connections. It was all secure and sealed. The problem lay with William. He wasn’t just being quiet to be irritating; he was _unconscious_ and had not woken up.

 

Sebastian’s blood ran cold, and he frantically began the combination for the safe in order to break William out. He’d better not be dead. He’d better fucking not be dead.

 

William T. Fucking Spears had _better_ not be fucking dead.

 

The moment Sebastian threw the safe door open, he saw what had happened — rather, what William had done — to the oxygen supply. Automatically, he pulled a hand back and slapped William’s cheek, but received no response. William’s head lolled forward, his lips turning blue, but his body was still warm. His limbs had not stiffened with rigor mortis. Blood still flowed in his veins. He was alive.

 

For now.

 

Sebastian dragged the man out of the safe like a rag doll and immediately pinched William’s nose shut and pushed their mouths together to perform rescue breaths, followed by chest compressions.

 

“Don’t you _dare_ die on me,” he hissed, eyes wide all around. “I _need_ you!!”

 

William lay crumpled on the floor, pale as death. Sebastian couldn’t have known how long the psychologist had been without oxygen, but it clearly had been too long.

 

It had taken William ten minutes to use up what remained of the oxygen in the safe, another two to pass out, and for almost three minutes his brain was completely deprived of vital air.

 

Sebastian was a doctor. Even without knowing how far gone William was, resuscitating the poor man was done with the knowledge that he may have sustained irreversible brain damage — something Sebastian entirely held the blame for — but he did it regardless. It was an act of pure desperation.

 

At least he was very professional at cardiopulmonary resuscitation, and it was only fifteen seconds before the brunet startled back to life and began to frantically gulp down large amounts of oxygen.

 

Startled blue eyes shot open, his brain beginning to race with fuzzy, panicked thoughts.

 

Gazing up at Sebastian, a look of devastation began to sink in, and he uttered only two little words.

 

“…I _failed_?”

 

Sebastian exhaled sharply, feeling a crushing emotional weight lift from his shoulders and nearly collapsed onto William with relief. He raised his hand to strike him again, but he discovered that he didn’t have the energy, and left his hand in the air for a moment before letting it fall listlessly back down again.

 

“Damn _right_ you failed. What the fuck do you think you were doing?” the raven asked, trembling in distress. “Why did you do that…?! Don’t you know that I need you…?!”

 

Blindly, he reached out for the oxygen mask and began untying the knot in the cord, pushing the mask back onto William’s face with madly shaking hands.

 

“You fool. You _fool_ ,” Sebastian choked, clenching his hands into tight fists. “You’re the only thing I have left to live for in this world. D-don’t you dare take that from me, as well…”

 

William stared up at him, his skin slowly regaining colour.

 

“…I am _not_ yours,” he whispered, wanting to raise his arms and pull the mask off his face but finding his arms felt like total lead. He didn’t need it and he was not going back in that safe. Sebastian couldn’t do that without risking another suicide attempt. “I don’t…deserve this…”

 

So long without morphine was eating him alive…! Muscle aches, cold sweat, a churning stomach…and the agony of the broken bones that needed the opiate in the first place.

 

Not to mention how sluggish his own thoughts were. Something didn’t feel right.

 

The seizure that followed probably did surprise Sebastian at first — it had come out of nowhere — but the likelihood of brain damage had been high, and he knew that. All of a sudden, the brunet had been overcome with a series of rapid, involuntary muscle spasms — he remained conscious for a few seconds, only to pass out again  as the seizure took its course.

 

Sebastian couldn’t even bite a retort back at William because the seizure had begun. He froze, knowing instantly what was happening, and felt a strange pit forming in his stomach. He was helpless to take action; all he could do for William was time the seizure and wait for it to end.

 

No…no, he would never be using the safe again. He’d figure something else out to give William what he did deserve.

 

“I want you to think of what you did to me every time you feel your pain,” Sebastian whispered, even knowing that William was unconscious. “You don’t get the easy way out. I’ve told you before: death is too kind a fate for you.”

 

But it lacked the usual venom at the tip of Sebastian’s tongue, and he sat back a little, lowering his gaze.

 

William’s seizure ended, his muscles stopped spasming, and Sebastian moved him up to the bed, looking him over. He had not anticipated a suicide attempt within the safe, and so he was quite unprepared for treating any sort of brain damage. It was nothing he’d expected and he could only hope that it was just a one-time occurrence.

 

“You don’t know how much I need you,” Sebastian repeated, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest. “I mustn’t lose you or l'll certainly go mad.”

 

But it was not the last of William’s seizures. They occurred once or twice a day, and weren’t stopping.

 

William’s seizures were atypical, according to Sebastian, because he remained conscious (what was called a simple partial seizure) for a few seconds before descending into a complex partial seizure, where he lost consciousness and the spasms became more severe.

 

This meant nothing to William, who cared for nothing but morphine, death, and more morphine. Not only had Sebastian destroyed his body, but now he’d permanently fucked up his brain, too.

 

There was nothing left that Sebastian could take from him…was there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! If you'd like to not have to wait many months in between updates, leave us a review! <3


	5. Vials and Volts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah we're gonna treat ya to a second chapter ;) -- love Clear and PIe~

 

Well, the mad doctor could be very creative in a pinch.

 

While he still took care of William just enough to keep him alive, he was still going to carry on with as much psychological torture as he could. He had never intended to physically damage William’s brain — only psychologically. He intended to go through with that plan while keeping his mind intact at the same time.

 

Sebastian planned to take William’s sanity, as well. To start this, he forcibly tied William’s limbs to the bedposts, rendering him immobile, and remorselessly positioned him so that he could not move his head in any direction. The reason for this was that Sebastian had perfectly repositioned the bed so that the dead center of William’s forehead would be the target for a slow, steady leak in the ceiling.

 

Classic Chinese water torture, he had heard, could drive even the most resilient of men mad. 

 

When William awoke, he had already been positioned directly under the water drip. It didn’t help that it was raining today —  more than likely, Sebastian had waited specifically for it to rain so that he could do this. It was quite unusual that William could have slept through being moved around so much, but ever since the safe he had very little strength anymore. 

 

The brunet had been unable to move his head at all, but his bloodshot eyes flicked over to Sebastian, who was staring down at him smugly. 

 

William felt uncomfortable. It seemed that Sebastian had dressed him today, in just a simple pair of pyjama pants over his mangled knees, as well as the absorbent thing he’d been forced to wear in the safe. Observing his torso, he saw that he was noticeably skinnier than he used to be. 

 

In Sebastian’s cruel captivity, he was wasting away. 

 

“…Mmmmh…can we…please play torture… _ after _ painkillers?” the miserable brunet uttered, feeling pain and withdrawals setting in the more he began to wake. “I promise I’ll act like it bothers me…I just…I  _ need _ some…” 

 

He was breathing rapidly, his heart pounding in his chest, and his vision was fuzzy even with his glasses. William felt unnaturally anxious, and his stomach was cramping painfully.

 

Withdrawal. Need. 

 

“Please…something’s…I’m not feeling well…Gnh — …” 

 

The dripping of water on his forehead was already becoming frustrating…and he could just tell by the look on Sebastian’s face that he would receive no mercy.

 

The look on Sebastian’s face had just become one of contempt. Presently, he was wondering why in the hell this man was still acting like such an arrogant prick in spite of his situation. The lack of painkillers was extremely evident now; William was exhibiting all of the most obvious symptoms of opiate withdrawal, and this time it was impossible to fake. He had no stolen pills to rely on.

 

“ _ Play _ torture…?!” Sebastian repeated in disgust, glancing up at the leak in the ceiling and watching it drip steadily down onto William’s forehead. He knew distinctly it would have driven himself mad hours ago; why was William so unfazed?! The doctor’s skin prickled with irritation, and he glared at his prisoner, setting his jaw.

 

“Just who exactly do you think you are…? ‘Act like it bothers’ you? Good lord, how do you keep up with being such a smug bastard all day? Surely it must be exhausting.”

 

His lip curled back in a sneer. “Of course you don’t feel well. You’re experiencing severe medication withdrawals. From the looks of things, I’d call that more effective torture than the drip. Why should I reward you with your drug, filth? Make your case.”

 

William stared at Sebastian with desperation in his eyes. 

 

“Because nothing will be as effective as the pain I’m going through,” he gasped, clenching his fists in distress. “You think I give a fuck about some fucking water droplets on my head when all I can think about is that drug?” 

 

He laughed a bit manically, feeling tears gather in his eyes and he wasn’t sure why. 

 

“This…this is child’s play. All this did was make me need the bathroom, which is a non-issue for you. So it is ‘play torture’. To get what you want out of this, you’re going to have to give me something that I want.” 

 

He kept to himself that he already had a migraine from how long he’d endured the water droplets. Poor William was so exhausted, so hungry, so desperate for the relief of opiates. He was sick and humiliated and just wanted it all to be over…

 

That probably explained the tears. 

 

“Your petulant whining is extremely grating on the senses,” Sebastian replied with total and complete disinterest. “You  _ do  _ realize that I don’t need to give you so much as one drop of morphine to get the sort of reactions I want from you?”

 

The raven approached William’s bed, reaching into his inner jacket pocket for something, and produced a small glass vial that contained an unidentifiable, clear liquid. Sebastian held it out to show William, his face expressionless and unreadable.

 

“I had hoped that I wouldn’t have to resort to such crude and ugly measures so soon,” he informed William as he uncapped the vial, “but alas. Life is disappointment. But I think that this will be  _ extremely _ enjoyable for me.”

 

William’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the vial with its translucent liquid. 

 

"…What is that…?” he asked quietly, not wanting to seem too afraid, but he had a feeling Sebastian could tell anyway. 

 

Was it some sort of drug….? Was Sebastian going to knock him out and do unthinkable things to his body? There was certainly no lines this man would not cross…he was a psychopath, after all. 

 

Was there any point in begging…? Sebastian could never be dissuaded. And while he acted as if using this on William was some mild disappointment, he clearly couldn’t wait to do it.

 

There would be no escape from whatever this was. 

 

Sebastian continued to look blank. He would not give away his game with an expression. “Now, you wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, would you?” he asked, reaching down and tenderly stroking William’s cheek with his free hand. “It’s very exciting. I think you’ll like what I have in store for you.”

 

That said, he drew his hand back and tipped the vial over William’s hand, which was still bound to the bedpost. When the liquid hit William’s hand, nothing happened for a moment, but then there was a hissing sound, and the skin and flesh on William’s hand began to erode rapidly away.

 

It was only then that Sebastian allowed himself to smile, and it was a smile of deep satisfaction. His little investment had paid off so handsomely…

 

It had only been a few droplets, but that was enough to do the job. William gasped and winced, though he seemed to be doing a fine job of not actually screaming. For a few seconds, at least, until the pain increased exponentially. The highly acidic substance ate away at the surface of William’s pale, slender hand, and then it began to burn his tendons, bone and ligaments. Sebastian was pouring acid on his skin. Genuine fucking acid. And the worst part was, William could not even see what was happening due to having his head previously locked in place. 

 

For all he knew, and based on what it felt like, William was sure he was going to lose his hand. Without a doubt, it was going to melt away and fall to the ground and he would be forever crippled. 

 

“STOP, Sebastian, please!!” he shouted, eyes wide with panic. “No more, make it stop, please, I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry — !!” 

 

“Ohhh?” Sebastian asked softly, his calm in direct opposition to William’s panic. “And what are you sorry for, William? Why don’t you tell me?” Drop by drop, he continued to tip the vial over various spots on William’s hand, and watched with serene delight as the chemical instantly ate away at everything in its path.

 

“Sorry, perhaps, for destroying me?” he whispered pleasantly. “For denying me even an ounce of empathy? Please tell me what you’re so sorry for, William. I’d love to know.”

 

God, the screams were music to his ears.

 

William began one very commendable attempt to free himself of his bindings. Unfortunately, the more he tried to pull his hand free, the more flesh was rubbed off, and it was all one disgusting, melted mess. 

 

“Yes,” he cried, jolting free of his head vice, sitting up, and writhing to try and pull his arms free. “I have said sorry many times, and you know I tried to make things right!! It is not an apology you want, so just tell me what — what you need — !” 

 

The human body was not meant to cope with this kind of overwhelming stress. The absorbent product he’d been fitted in was becoming warm and wet and the poor gentleman was fearing a seizure was close by. Combined with everything else his body was going through, surely, it wouldn’t be long until his heart just gave out. 

 

“Tell me everything you did wrong,” Sebastian whispered, his gaze and his tone glacial and unforgiving. “Admit that you didn’t search hard enough or make enough of an effort to find me. Admit that you gave up because you didn’t care enough. Admit that you were content to let me rot in hell, William. You never believed in me.”

 

He was remorseless, starting to drip acid up William’s wrist. “So if you admit all that, I’ll consider stopping this. If you’re convincing, I will stop. It’s up to you.” The skin on William’s wrist began blistering apart as the muscles and sinew began corroding. Sebastian didn’t need to imagine what the pain felt like. He had nearly burned alive, after all.

 

He still wished that he had.

 

But he let up from William’s wrist before his victim could utter so much as one word, and poised the vial tantalizingly close to William’s face, preparing to tip it over his nose.

 

William absolutely froze. 

 

His words died in his throat when he saw the vial ready to spill onto his face. A droplet on the viscous substance hung precariously on the rim of the glass, threatening to fall and eat a hole in his facial features. 

 

This was a whole other level of torture. 

 

Not only would it be physically agonizing, but also highly psychologically traumatizing. William, as it happened, was quite vain. He cared a great deal for his appearance, and he knew he was very attractive. Unfortunately for him, the threat of having his face permanently mutilated by acid was one of the worst things that could possibly happen, and it brought rational thought screeching to a stop. 

 

William promptly, and forcefully, burst into tears.

 

“I did it!!!” he sobbed, thick tears rolling over his lashes. “I-I did everything — all those things — whatever — I — please, I — it was my fault, I’m sorry, I’m absolute scum and I deserve this but I’m begging you, please don’t…please…” 

 

He kept his face turned away from the vial as he could, but it wouldn’t be enough. 

“I’ll do a-anything, b-but if you ruin my face y-you’ll have nothing left to hold over me…

 

Sebastian continued to hold the vial threateningly over William’s face, his hand steady and unmoving for a long time while he listened to William’s pathetic sobbing and groveling. 

 

After what felt like centuries, he finally drew his hand back without letting one drop spill onto William’s face, and he recapped the vial. 

 

“I see,” the raven replied softly, watching pitilessly as William’s tears flowed. “You do deserve this, don’t you? Maybe I could mutilate your face regardless, and let you exist knowing that you’re ugly and deformed for the rest of your life. That would be excellent torture, in my opinion, if you really are such an arrogant peacock.”

 

He paused for a moment, and then smiled very, very faintly, but it was one of his empty smiles. “I’ll hold onto this, then. Thank you. I’m glad that you’ve finally had some semblance of clarity.”

 

The brunet did not dare utter so much as a sigh of relief. 

 

Instead he just quieted down, watching Sebastian fearfully through his silently rolling tears. His nerves were shot to pieces, and he couldn’t take much more of this. The next chance he got, he would be sure to end his own life. He had nothing left but good looks, and even they were fading with each day of abuse and starvation. 

 

Tears flowed on as the acid continued eating away at his hand, though the progress had greatly slowed. William had also been correct in predicting a seizure, though a brief and conscious one that lasted only a few seconds. He stopped sobbing as his body was wracked with spasms, flailing against his bonds, and he choked on his tears and saliva until it passed. 

 

 “…P...please untie me,” he whimpered thickly after he’d had a moment to recover. He wanted to ask Sebastian to wash his hand off, knowing that in his poor health if he got an infection, he would likely die. But this was actually an upside, so he kept his mouth shut.

 

 “Sebastian…I… you were right. I should never have said I didn’t deserve this…it’s because of me that your life spiralled so terribly and what I did to make amends was far from enough. I do deserve to be punished…but…w-wouldn’t you rather I spent my days trying to make it up to you…?” 

 

Poor, pathetic William’s eyes widened at the idea. Yes. It sounded good. It sounded much nicer than this. 

 

“I...if you took me upstairs…I could…be your servant, cooking and cleaning and s-s-satisfying you…I also am q-quite wealthy, and…I could make you happy. If you’d let me.” 

 

Sebastian’s expression did not change, and he tenderly stroked William’s cheek. “Mmm,” he pondered. “And how do I know that you won’t attempt to murder me again?” he asked him, his fingers brushing over flawless skin. “Or try to steal more of my medication? Do I really have the key to your unyielding obedience and submission? A little vial of acid…”

 

His hand wandered up and petted through William’s hair. “I want to punish you for the rest of our natural lives,” he made certain to let him know. “I don’t want to see even the faintest glimmer of happiness in your eyes. You and I agree now that you deserve nothing less than total and complete misery.”

 

_ That  _ man was standing just outside of Sebastian’s peripheral vision again, but the doctor sensed him and snapped his head up to face him.

 

His beautiful husband, holding the hand of their sweet little Ciel.

 

A hand that was charred beyond recognition, with the rest of their skin. Their eyes were but gaping, empty holes, their noses were gone, their teeth exposed. Sebastian’s throat closed up at the sight of them and he backed away, stoicism gone in an instant and replaced with terror and heartbreak. It was the only way he ever saw them anymore.

 

“Does he really?” Vincent asked in his soft, musical voice. Ciel’s little hand tightened around his father’s bony, ash-covered fingers, with crisp, blackened skin still hanging onto a shred of muscle.

 

“Don’t you lecture me,” Sebastian hissed to the apparition. “Don’t you  _ dare _ .” But his nose and eyes were prickling. The way his throat was closed up, and his breath caught…his lips were trembling.

 

Vincent had no face left to speak of, but something about the way he carried himself was reproachful. “Why do you continue to justify this to yourself?” he challenged. “You know that this is not who you are.”

 

“Stop,” Sebastian choked, trying desperately to hold back tears. “Haven’t  _ I _ suffered enough…?!”

 

William felt something akin to heartbreak when Sebastian declined his desperate offer, but what followed shocked him into complete silence. He had known Sebastian was not mentally stable — that was very clear. But to realize he was suffering from hallucinations was incredibly worrying. 

 

‘Haven’t I suffered enough…?!’ Sebastian had wailed. 

 

William’s mind, which quivered on the edge of total collapse, still managed to shift into psychologist mode. It was quite easy to deduce that Sebastian was seeing phantoms. The phantoms of his dearest dead, and they were tormenting him relentlessly. 

 

Little Ciel Phantomhive, the sole heir, who had one cooked eyeball dangling precariously in its crisped socket, was making a peculiar sound reminiscent of crying. “What happened to Papa…? Why did he become so horrible…?” 

 

“Stop it,” Sebastian repeated, voice tight. “You don’t understand. You’ll never understand.” Ciel, their precious miracle, who hadn’t even lived to see his eighth birthday, calling him horrible…it pierced Sebastian’s heart with the fury of a thousand white-hot knives.  “ _ You _ weren’t there for what he did to me,” the tormented man gasped, covering his eyes with his hands and bowing over in agony. “You were  _ dead _ . You can’t judge me…!!”

 

Ciel whined quietly and clung to his father Vincent, hiding his mutilated face into Vincent’s ashy suit jacket. “Papa’s become scary. He doesn’t have to shout at us,” he whispered, and Sebastian pounded a fist into the wall behind him.

 

“ _ You don’t understand _ !” he burst out, breaking into the tears he had tried so desperately to hold back. “Stay dead! Just leave me alone…! Let me suffer quietly!”

 

When he peeked through his fingers again, the apparitions had gone. Sebastian nearly collapsed from relief; he sank down to his knees and was forced by his own body to weep.

 

“Are you entertained?” he snapped to his silent prisoner through his tears. “Do the tears and visions of a madman amuse you, Dr. Spears?” 

 

Shaking badly, he hid his face behind his hands once more. “Why don’t you enjoy looking at me like this while it lasts, Doctor? Or have you averted your gaze from what you did to me? The very thing I begged you to help stop? I’m…I’m quite mad, but…I’m not a fool. I know they aren’t real, but they won’t  _ leave _ . They won’t let me suffer quietly. They never have.”

 

William was rather speechless, mouth slightly agape as he tried to search for words. He was still emotionally distraught after what he’d just been through, but sympathy still welled to the surface. 

It was hard to stare such a beautiful man in the eyes and watch him weep for the deaths of his loved ones. 

 

“…I am not amused in the slightest,” he sighed hoarsely. “These hallucinations are a grim sign for you. But I have good news: I cannot officially diagnose you with psychopathic personality disorder. You simply do not fit the necessary criteria. “

 

Seeing he had Sebastian’s attention, he continued, “Latent psychopathic traits, however, combined with severe post-traumatic stress disorder, would be the pieces in play with your mind right now. More good news —  psychopathic traits can be treated, while the full blown disorder has quite a grim prognosis…and there are many treatment options available for PTSD.” 

 

William was in so much pain he could barely think straight, but it was important he get these words out now while Sebastian was vulnerable and lucid and listening. 

 

“That’s the diagnosis I would have given you back then, Sebastian. It is still valid now, even if you’ve deteriorated considerably. I know it probably means nothing, but I’d treat you…if you let me come upstairs….” _ Please let me come upstairs. _

 

Sebastian could barely think straight himself. He knelt there upon the cold stone floor in defeat, hugging himself tightly and trying to wrestle his tears back. “Why,” he whispered, slowly looking up at William through his long and tangled mess of hair. “Why would you help me  _ now _ ? After all I’ve done to you? H…how could you  _ possibly _ …? Surely I am much too far gone.”

 

He crawled unsteadily to the shaken man in the bed. 

 

“William…how could you help me?” he choked. “Why would you help me…? How…please, tell me…”

 

William, having wiggled free of his head bindings at the cost of rubbing the skin around his ears and neck raw, stared down at Sebastian in something resembling pity and sympathy. 

 

“…I wanted to help you…that is the truth. And even though I did not adequately provide you the care you needed back then, I am serious when I tell you that I want you to get better. From this point I will not lie to you, Michaelis…and the truth is that it will benefit the both of us to help you.” 

 

He stared hard at the tormented raven, biting his lip at his inner confliction. The calm demeanour didn’t last very long…the poor brunet was utterly traumatised. 

 

“Please let me stay upstairs with you,” he repeated with wide eyes, mutilated fingers stretched desperately towards Sebastian. “Please. I can’t stand it down here, l-living like an i-invalid. I’ll do anything, I swear it..! I’ll help you get better — don’t you want to get better?! Don’t you want them to leave you alone?!”

 

Sebastian didn’t know what in the world possessed him to do so, but he reached out, and their fingers touched. He felt William’s mutilated, bloody hands against his own, and shut his eyes, weeping harder. “Of course I want them to leave me alone,” he choked, his hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “But I wish you’d succeeded when you tried to kill me. I wish you had never wrecked your car and would have let me die alone. I’m so tired of seeing their mutilated corpses and hearing them ask me where I went wrong. I’m so tired, William.”

 

He knelt at the bedside, pushing his face into William’s lap, and tried to hold back his desperate, exhausted sobs. “What’s the point?” he asked with a sharp sniffle, keeping his eyes hidden. “Even if I recover…they’re still dead. I’ll still be alone.”

 

He was silent for a long time. 

 

“…You may…stay upstairs until I die, or decide to end your wretched life,” he whispered into the sheets. “It’s not as if you’ll be able to run away, in any case.”

 

The traumatised brunet looked like it was Christmas. “N-no, it’s certainly not,” he agreed hurriedly, his fingers tightening in Sebastian’s grip. “You won’t regret it!!” 

 

And then he shut his mouth, not wanting to say or do anything that would cause Sebastian to change his mind. William didn’t know what his own plans were at this point, or Sebastian, but anything was better than being in this godawful basement a minute longer. 

 

It wasn’t all paradise, though. 

 

For instance, there was only one bed upstairs, and Sebastian was not foolish enough to let William sleep there with him. William’s bed downstairs was a ruin even before William had come and soaked it in blood and urine — it was old, mouldy, and termite-damaged. Not to mention it was a great, heavy wooden thing that had been here when Sebastian moved in, so moving it upstairs wasn’t worth the effort. 

 

Instead, William was chained to one of the bedposts at the end of Sebastian’s bed, short enough so that he could barely even move, and he was given a pile of blankets to sleep upon that were itchy and woollen. 

 

_ Anything was better….right? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nya we really like reviews :>


	6. Creature Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William has been moved from the basement to the main floor of the house. How much longer he can survive, though, and how well he can keep on Sebastian's good side, remains to be seen.

For all the continuing discomforts, it turned out to be significantly better than being in the basement. Sebastian did wash the blankets from the downstairs bed and gave them to William to stay warm with, and it was cozier in the actual house than it was in the basement. In addition, he’d begun treating William’s wounds and injuries and had stopped making new ones. William’s acid-burnt hand was heavily bandaged up and kept away from the stinging cold air, and his meals were warm once more. It could almost be like William was Sebastian’s ‘guest’ again.

 

Sebastian, for his part, still didn’t trust William any further than he could throw him. He didn’t know what on God’s green earth had possessed him to give William even this much luxury and freedom, but here he had, and here he was to stay. He was embarrassed by having interacted so vividly with his own hallucinations in front of William, and he had become quiet, not saying much, even when giving William a meal or escorting him to the toilet.

 

It was hard to talk about, and honestly, Sebastian didn’t want to think about it very much anyway. All he could see when he thought of his loved ones was the sight of their burning corpses that he couldn’t save. How could one even turn that into a conversation?

 

William was very obedient for the next few days out of gratitude. He and Sebastian said very little to each other, and while he wasn’t permitted free reign of the house, he was given the basic human right of being allowed to eat twice a day, use the bathroom three times a day (it was by no means easy, but he had to make it work), and a brief cold shower every 3 days where afterwards, he was allowed to shave under strict supervision.

 

It seemed Sebastian preferred him clean-cut, too.

 

William had noticed Sebastian beginning to acquire items that he should not have been able to afford considering he was living in complete poverty, and all he had to his name was this dingy shack.

 

This included, but was not by any means limited to, a collar with a long pole attached, like those used to deal with vicious dogs. When Sebastian took William anywhere, it was with that collar, preventing William to go anywhere that Sebastian didn’t want him to go.

 

There was one thing that meant the most to William, though, and that was the small amount of time he had access to the morphine drip.  It was only for half an hour, twice a day…but it kept him in what Sebastian considered to be the Goldilocks zone: ‘Not whining about his pain like a fucking child all the time’ and ‘Not stoned off his stupid face’ either.

 

William was suitably lucid for Sebastian’s needs, whatever they might be.

 

“Your face is healing up nicely,” William commented one night after having gratefully nibbled his dinner, lukewarm porridge. “Have you been using bio oil on the scar…?”

 

“Yes,” Sebastian replied, glancing over at William with a mouthful of his own dinner, which was more or less the same as William’s. “I have. I...did not expect it to work, but I appear to have been mistaken…thank you.”

 

The mystery of how he was starting to be able to afford things beyond the bare necessities was one easily solved, but he wasn’t going to tell William just yet. It was only thanks to William that he could get nicer groceries, after all.

 

He changed the bandages on William’s hand after their paltry meal, observing the healing process and washing and re-dressing the wounds before wrapping him up in new bandages.

 

“Has the morphine been doing its job?” Sebastian wondered aloud, meeting William’s eyes very briefly. His lips twitched back in an equally brief smile before fading once more, and he averted his gaze. “I’ve hardly heard you complain, so I’m hoping that that’s a good thing.”

 

William ate every last mouthful of the simple porridge, having had to learn to eat with his left hand now that his right was quite a mess. He’d never seen the kitchen, but judging by the porridge, he wasn’t sure Sebastian owned a refrigerator. Powdered milk had a very distinct taste.

 

“It’s…bearable,” William answered quietly. That basically summed up his whole existence right now. He shifted among his blankets, the pole on his collar rolling across the floorboards as he moved, and his chains clinking.

 

“I’m very grateful.” He glanced up at Sebastian, who sat at the little table nearby. “You’ve done more for me than I deserve.”

 

Sebastian scraped the edges of the bowl at least a dozen times to make sure that he got every last bite of his meal. “Mm,” he replied in agreement, still less than tepid towards William. He was still looking haggard as ever; his eyelids were heavy and there were dark rings under his eyes. His brown eyes themselves were dull, and anything he said lacked spirit.  


“Most likely,” Sebastian mumbled in continuation of his halfhearted grunt. “I’m glad you’re grateful, at least. You aren’t complaining any longer, so I suppose that’s an improvement.”  


Even for the improvement to William’s life, Sebastian’s had not gotten any better. He still underwent psychosis at least three times a day, plagued by his dead family, and he often lashed out at them, screaming into thin air. It was humiliating under William’s gaze, and he was almost afraid to speak to him. He was an absolute fucking lunatic; he knew that his worst enemy thought this. William was a goddamn shrink...he knew his trade.

 

William wasn’t safe, of course. Depending on Sebastian’s mood, sometimes he’d have things thrown at him, or be struck, or denied those simple human rights he needed. It all came down to trying not to anger his captor. William felt like he was a housewife at the mercy of an abusive, drunkard husband. But that husband was being better of late, so he could pretend things weren’t so bad.

 

He glanced over to the window, where he could see it was starting to rain. It had been a long time since the rain brought him any comfort, but tonight…it wasn’t so bad.

 

“Uh…I was wondering about something you said the other night,” he found himself saying when the silence grew heavy, adjusting his cracked glasses. “Were you going to kill yourself…the night I crashed outside?”

 

His heart began to race as he worried — would this set Sebastian off?

 

Sebastian gripped his spoon a little tighter, and his whole body tensed. He still did not look at William, but he was not set off.

 

“It was going to be quite old fashioned,” he said quietly, after a long silence. “A rope, a beam, and a chair. I had — that rope was in my hands and the chair under my feet when I heard your car come crashing down the cliff. I don’t believe in God, Dr. Spears. I don’t believe in divine intervention. Perhaps karmic forces, but no higher powers. But if I did…I might have thought that you were sent to me to give me some sense of purpose.”

 

He listened to the rain beginning to pick up outside, and the sound of leaks in the roof dripping quietly down into their pails in the house, the sound of water pattering into puddles in the grass outside.

 

“I was so close,” Sebastian murmured, staring into his bowl. “If there is an afterlife, I could have perhaps seen them again, unmarred. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

 

William stared down at his hands as Sebastian spoke.

 

“I’m not a believer, either,” he replied, shifting his feet a little closer to himself. “But what are the chances that I would come to you at that moment…? What are the chances?” He glanced up as a droplet landed on his head, causing him to frown slightly. “But maybe I didn’t end up here for you to punish. Maybe I really was supposed to help you.” He met Sebastian’s eyes, searching them nervously. “Maybe I was supposed to make things better for you.”

 

He knew he already was. His money alone was making improvements to Sebastian’s life, though neither of them said so.

 

“Better how?” Sebastian asked, voice laced with exhaustion and cynicism. “The universe delivering a human punching bag to me was supposed to make my life better?”

 

He knit his brow, pushing his empty bowl away from himself with a quiet sigh of disgust, and leaned back in his rickety chair. “What are the chances that you’d be given to me so cleanly? Why…what real purpose would you have here? Do you really think you’re here so that we can talk my feelings out like that day never happened?”

 

He held their gaze for a while, but eventually broke it to look out the window. “We’re both so tired, Dr. Spears. What do you think you can do?”

 

William’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. “I’ve said it plenty times now. I can and will treat you. Or you could…”

 

 _Let us go to sleep together…there’s more than enough morphine_.

 

William closed his eyes. _Stop…_

 

These weren’t healthy thoughts…but it was so hard not to think about suicide, after all he’d endured here.

 

“…Talk to me without judgment. You said you wanted to get better. That’s what I’m here for, that’s why I ended up here. To right my mistakes and help you get your life back on track. I am certain that when you begin to work through the pain inside you, those voices tormenting you will fade.”

 

That was better. William reached up, touching Sebastian’s foot.

 

Sebastian slowly turned his head towards William, looking down at him with the same empty expression as always. Just as slowly, he reached down and rested his hand over the one already touching his foot. Something resembling life and hope flickered behind his tired eyes — just the barest hint of a spark.

 

“You really will help me?” he breathed, his voice strained. He hadn’t really wanted to let himself believe it; this man had done so much wrong and even attempted to murder him. But by now, Sebastian had broken himself down and just wanted peace. The hallucinations had gotten worse with William here, but…perhaps he really could make them go away. His family would finally leave him alone.

 

“Then please…help,” the raven pleaded in a whisper, his hand tightening over William’s. “Make this stop. Undo what you did, just…please…”

 

He shut his eyes, bowing his head down, and bit his lip. “Make me stop seeing them. Make them leave.”

 

“I will,” the brunet promised. “You believed me when you took me upstairs. It’s just going to take time, but I definitely will put my wholehearted effort into it — after all, there’s nothing else for me to do all day, is th —”

 

Somehow, without his knowledge, two minutes had flown by in the blink of an eye.

 

Another absence seizure, it seemed, if Sebastian having moved from the chair to the floor in the span of a second was any indicator to go by. When William returned to consciousness, he flinched away from his captor immediately. He was used to being hit for his seizures at this point. The fact that they hadn’t gone away seemed to frustrate the raven to no end.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, backing up against the wall…but right now, it didn’t look like Sebastian was going to lash out. Was it the rain making him calmer…?

 

Sebastian wasn’t even close to lashing out. Instead, he just looked…tired. It was all he ever looked like anymore; he didn’t even have the energy to get angry. Instead, he just stayed and knelt by William’s side, on the floor, checking him over and administering first aid.

 

“No,” he said quietly, taking William’s pulse, examining his eyes, testing his reflexes. “I’m sorry. That one was longer than usual. I’m concerned that they might be getting worse. And that’s…my fault.”

 

He was quiet for a moment, and then glanced up into William’s eyes. “I’m afraid there isn’t anything else for you to do here all day. If you don’t mind spending all of your energy on me, then…I’ll allow it. I’ll accept your offer, if it still stands.”

 

“I'll be glad for anything to occupy my mind at this point,” William answered a bit drowsily, still shaking off the effects of the seizure.

 

 _They’re getting longer…?_   

 

William gazed back at Sebastian, just as haggard if not more considerably more so. He didn’t want to let the thought enter his mind, but if he wasn’t mistaken, Sebastian was showing genuine concern for him.

 

Apologizing, taking responsibility for the fact that the seizures were his fault? Maybe that manic bloodlust that had consumed the raven since coming here had faded so much, that all that was left was the same depressed husk of a man that was ready to kill himself the day William had crashed near his home.

 

William couldn’t speak of his own suicidal wishes. They were personal, just for him, a backup plan for if this all went wrong. No, right now, he wanted to convince Sebastian that living was a good thing.

 

“Have you…ever thought about what it might be like to fall in love again?” he asked hoarsely, eyes averted as Sebastian examined him. “Nothing heals the heart like new love…”

 

Sebastian’s movements paused at William’s question, and he held onto his captive’s wrist firmly, but with none of the roughness from before. “I’ve tried,” he confessed. “Many times. But Vincent, he…he was my family. We had a son. That kind of love…you’re lucky to find it once in a lifetime.”

 

The raven tried to smile, but it was bitter. “I’ve become a bitter man, Dr. Spears. But you don’t need me to tell you that. I don’t know if…if I really, truly believe in second true love. To be honest…I think the idea of daring to hope for such a thing is frightening to me. I have loved and lost. I’m afraid of losing again.”

 

His grip on William’s wrist tightened, became needier, in need of reassurance. “If I did lose again, I may break irreparably.”

 

He met William’s eyes, closing his hand over William’s. “Do you know that pain? That sense of fragility? Everything that ever mattered to you being taken away in an instant? Perhaps you could have done more; perhaps you could have saved it. But in the end…you failed, and became helpless.”

 

Suddenly, he bowed over, and very lightly rested his forehead against William’s sternum. “Because if you do know what that’s like…and still be hopeful for another love one day…I could believe you.”

 

William's eyes widened a little, his heart shooting into overdrive.

 

 _W-what the hell is he —_?

 

As he listened to Sebastian exposing his true feelings, he began to calm again. He knew what Sebastian meant, and he knew he had to open up in turn.

 

“Haven’t I told you…?” he asked, gently wrapping an arm around the other man’s frame. “…The day you came to me, the person I wished to marry had broken my heart. They were my ‘once in a lifetime’. I was inconsolable. I shouldn’t have gone to work — I knew that, but I was compelled to, because that was all I had left. Gods, if only I had resisted the urge.”

 

Sebastian felt cold…more or less how William expected him to. Wanting to keep him warm, though, came as an abrupt, uncomfortable surprise.

 

“I healed…enough. A broken heart probably can’t ever heal fully, but I was ready to try and find love again. I’d been asked on dates plenty times, but it was a long year before I was ready to say anything but ‘no.’ I had hope.”

 

Sebastian actually flinched at first when William embraced him, half expecting another attempted stabbing — but when he realized that no such thing had happened, and he was safe, he relaxed again. He allowed himself to ease into William’s touch, and he remained where he was, with his head resting on William’s chest.

 

“I see,” he said quietly, shutting his eyes. “That does ring a few bells. You did try to tell me before, didn’t you? Your actions that day…they still aren’t excused. That’s why you’re still here. But…at the very least, I understand them.”

 

He was quiet for a moment, and then added, not without another heavy dose of bitterness, “How fortunate for you that people still sought after you. Who could blame them? You were…you _are_ still so handsome. Anyone with a working pair of eyes would be smitten by you.”

 

Another bittersweet little ghost of a laugh escaped him. “Even myself…I wondered if perhaps you were a model standing in for the real psychologist when I first saw you. How ridiculous…”

 

It wasn’t really an embrace — William was beyond cautious, and all this ‘embrace’ entailed was an arm nervously curling around Sebastian’s body. But he relaxed too, when he realized he wasn’t going to be hit. As much as he could, anyway; it was hard when his brain was screaming at him to get back, to get far away from this man who had tortured him so awfully.

 

Nonetheless, the bespectacled brunet found his cheeks heating for the first time with something that wasn’t unbridled humiliation. It was something else; Sebastian thought him attractive. William had never been great at receiving compliments.

 

“It _is_ a little bit ridiculous,” he finally responded, biting his lip. “I’m just an ordinary man.” Not entirely true; he knew how captivated people were with his icy exterior and his stunning eyes, which his ex-lover had spoken about in great detail.

 

"You’d clean up very nicely, yourself. A nice suit and a haircut, and you’d have to fend them off with a stick.” William then glanced down and saw Sebastian had closed his eyes.

 

…How trusting of him.

 

A quiet huff of a laugh escaped Sebastian, and he remained where he was atop William for a moment longer. “You flatter me,” he muttered into William’s chest, closing his hand into a loose fist. “I did used to be a handsome devil, though. Once, very long ago.”

 

He sat up at that point, his long ebony hair tumbling down to his shoulders, and he gave William a faint smile. “Can you imagine that?” he asked, reaching over and stroking William’s cheek. “I daresay that I would even need to fend you off with a stick if I cleaned myself up. Do you agree?”

 

The hand that stroked William’s cheek slowly and gently made its way down the center of William’s chest and stomach, and then settled at his hip. “Though I suppose that’s somewhat preemptive,” he considered aloud, brushing his fingers along William’s skin with feather lightness, “even if you could call it an educated guess.”

 

It had been so long since he had properly touched the skin of another man…

 

William’s cheeks were on fire, given the sudden and unexpected intimacy from Sebastian.

 

“I-I have remarkable self control, so I’d say not!” he cried, quite flustered and rather uncomfortable. Sebastian was still beautiful, no matter what he thought of himself, but…he was still William’s torturer. It didn’t help that William’s body was still so broken…even the lightest touches still fell somewhere on the pain scale.

“…What are you…doing…exactly…?” he muttered, glancing off to the side. He could feel Sebastian's gaze on him, burning into him, making his stomach flutter…

 

He had not been with _anyone_ since Ronald, not even casually.

 

Sebastian bent closer until their noses nearly touched, not breaking his gaze. The close encounter left him burning and starving for intimacy like he hadn’t in years, and things were heating up very quickly for him. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked in reply, tugging lightly at William’s waistband. “I’m testing your self control.”

 

He was very much in control and not bothering to hold himself back; one hand cradled William’s face so that he could kiss it, and the other wandered inside William’s pants to feel him up. The spark behind Sebastian’s eyes was starting to alight, and his gaze was scorching down to William’s soul, filled with desire.

 

“I’d like to test just how remarkable your self control is,” Sebastian continued, helping himself to a soft grip on William’s member. “I think I still have it in me to be able to make another man melt with pleasure…”

 

“Mr. — _Michaelis_ — !” William gasped, struggling back a little against the wall and lowering his head, gazing up at the man from beneath his fringe, which had grown longer than he would normally permit. He was slightly wet from the seizure, and Sebastian’s hand being shoved down his pants made him jerk away in discomfort and embarrassment.

 

“W-we should not speak of control when I am chained to your bed, and every aspect of my life right now is subject to your whims.” It was a ballsy thing to say, but some things just slipped out…! William turned into himself, desperate to avoid those fierce eyes from winning him over. To his displeasure, his body was already reciprocating to the intimate touches. “There is no doubt; you could have any man you want. I can tell you that right now, s-so you don’t need to worry.”

 

Was there any point in protesting? Whether William consented or not, Sebastian would have him…but giving him permission might improve his own circumstances. Maybe he could win some more privileges.

 

In this case, perhaps he had to surrender control to gain some.

 

“Oh? But what if the one I want is _you_?” Sebastian queried, boldly advancing every time William drew back. William was protesting with his voice, but his body was not. Sebastian would work it to his advantage. William was practically pinned back against the wall now, and Sebastian crawled right on top of him to continue kissing and touching him.

 

“I _could_ have any man that I want. You and I agree on this,” the doctor went on, gently stroking William’s stiffening member between his thumb and forefinger. “So even though you’re clearly aroused, why do you hesitate? No matter if you’re chained or free, you’re responding to me, so why bother resisting? It’s not as if you have anything to lose.”

 

And just like that, the vulnerable, depressed Sebastian vanished, replaced by a stronger, more sex-starved one. William had just awakened a formidable beast from a very long slumber, and if the growing excitement between Sebastian’s legs was any indication, that beast wasn’t going to rest for a while.

 

“So trust me when I say I’m not worried,” he whispered into his prey’s ear, giving it a slow and deliberate taste.

 

William shuddered, cringing reflexively. By now, his heart was palpitating in his chest and his body was heating up quickly.

 

“I-I…suppose you’re right,” he whispered, now that he had realized it really was in his best interests to consent to this. “It’s not my place to give permission; you made that very clear early on. But for what it’s worth…I am willing.”

 

He bit his lower lip as Sebastian’s thumb swirled around the head of his cock, and he gently pushed his thighs together. It was feeling good already…there was nothing his gay heart could do about that, and the husky look in Sebastian’s eyes now gave him chills down his lower back.

 

This had to be a hint of the real, true Sebastian: an outright incubus.

 

“Good,” Sebastian whispered back against William’s lips, giving the psychologist’s cock a gentle but eager squeeze. He enjoyed the feeling of William’s pulse in his hand, and the girth was just the right size to comfortably fit his fingers around. And his fingers weren’t the only things that were going to fit around it.

 

Never breaking eye contact with William, Sebastian smiled and dipped down to undo William’s pants, one hand still inside and stroking William to life. “Then let’s see what you’re capable of, shall we?” he challenged with a glint in his eyes.

 

Once he had worked William’s pants open and freed his cock, Sebastian took a long moment to admire it, tracing an outline of its shape with a slender finger, from the head to the perfect shape of his testicles, which he kneaded gently and appreciatively. Frankly, William’s previous little whore partner had been an utter lunatic to give this up. He hadn’t deserved this body. Sebastian knew that he was going to savor every single touch and taste of this moment.

 

“I want you to tell me how good you’re feeling,” the incubus commanded, already pressing his lips to William’s glans in a kiss, and then slowly dragged his tongue across the slit before giving it a quick, teasing little slurp.

 

Normally, the one receiving fellatio was considered to be the one in control, but that was far from the truth here. Every movement of Sebastian’s oozed dominance, even as he lapped up the taste of William’s starved cock. His intention was to see William writhe, and he enjoyed every minute of it.

 

It had been far too long since the brunet had last received another man’s attentions, and he was desperate for release. The more his captor touched him, the more his stoicism melted away in favor of eager submission.

 

“I-it’s wonderful,” he panted softly, covering his mouth to stifle embarrassing moans. “I feel…needy.” He couldn’t have put it more honestly. Leaning against the wall, his spine arched, and he tilted his head back as the man pleasured him.

      

“Please keep going…!”

 

Damn it. He wanted Sebastian to fuck him…at that moment, he could not have cared less about his own dignity. The hunger for satisfaction was driving him blindly -- one tiny, single _good_ sensation, amidst this unending nightmare.

 

There was also great satisfaction to be had in Sebastian’s eyes when he watched his captive attempt to stifle his moans. He maintained steady eye contact, and therefore his dominance, every second that he pleasured William, and he was damn fucking good at his craft. The way William arched his back and turned his head…what a delectable slut.

 

“Needy for _what_?” he whispered when he freed up his mouth to catch his breath. His mouth wasn’t empty for long; he immediately bobbed his head back down and engulfed William’s cock once more, pushing his tongue all around it like a lollipop, and sucking just the right amount. “Why don’t you tell me just what you’d like me to do?”

 

But instead of waiting for an answer, Sebastian yanked William’s pants halfway down his thighs and copped a generous feel of his backside, fingers wandering dangerously close to his entrance.

 

A salacious groan left William’s lips at the mere thought of Sebastian’s fingers anywhere near his arse, even moreso when he thought of that demon pounding him with a much thicker appendage.

 

“Oh, I need you to fuck me,” he gasped abruptly, grasping Sebastian’s shirt. “Please, please…take off your clothes. I want — I want to see your body, your lovely beautiful body…with all of its scars..!”

 

He urged his hips towards Sebastian’s fingers, desperate to feel them inside him — to feel anything right now. His fingers slid down Sebastian’s chest to rub his groin eagerly, and then carded through the raven’s long, dark locks.

 

Sebastian’s fingers paused when he listened to William’s aroused mewls — but more than that, the declaration that Sebastian’s body was beautiful with its scars. He only paused for a moment; when he heard William’s words, Sebastian’s mouth abandoned William’s cock and instead ravaged William’s mouth with kisses all over again, and he took that moment to roughly push his fingers into William’s entrance to begin stretching him out.

 

“Don’t you worry about that,” he gasped between kisses, clumsily shrugging out of his jacket. With only one hand, he began to wrestle out of his pants and underwear, his hot skin shivering when it met the cold air in the bedroom, and hair standing on end. “I fully intend on fucking you, so don’t fret…but why don’t I stretch you out nicely, first?”

 

Teasing William was only too easy when he withdrew his fingers in order to undress completely. It was only temporary removal, but it was enough to leave any partner whining and begging for more. Well, removing their clothing took top priority. Sebastian was already naked and looming over William, pinning him down to establish his domination further while he removed William’s clothes as well.

 

And even malnourished, William was an exceptionally fine specimen of man. Sebastian looked over him very appreciatively, tracing a finger along the skin that stretched a little tightly over bones and muscle. Sebastian made a mental note to feed William better after this; he wanted to see this man at his very best physical state. It was hard to imagine beauty even greater than what already lay before him.

 

After Sebastian stripped William’s clothes off, the brunet was left spread lush on his pile of blankets, eager and desperate for more of Sebastian’s attentions. The way Sebastian looked at him, that hot, smoldering gaze, powerful and authoritative…and best of all, he liked the way William looked.

 

Was it because of his broken, twisted limbs, his bruised and starved figure...? The sight of a captive, helpless man? Or did he think William to be beautiful, entrancing and seductive, the same way that William found the demon himself? It went without saying that for William to have these thoughts was not exactly healthy, but he was deprived for pleasure and desperate for Sebastian’s touch.

 

“Y-you don’t need to worry about all that,” he panted, parting his thighs and hitching his slender hips upwards.  “Please...” His whole mouth felt dry, and he boldly leaned forward to kiss Sebastian out of his own volition. “You can take me right now, if you wish…” He took a subtle hold of Sebastian’s hot, thick cock, and proceeded to stroke it from base to tip in smooth, elegant motions that belied how needy he was to be filled to the brim.

 

Sebastian made a low rumbling in the back of his throat when William held and stroked his cock; he practically growled in pleasure like a beast. “Oh…you needn’t even ask,” he whispered, roughly hitching William up into his lap and spreading his legs. He allowed his prisoner to stroke him for a moment, taking all of the pleasure for himself, but he knew that neither of them were going to last much longer. It was time for the finale.

 

Crushing his lips against William’s, Sebastian took his cock back from William’s hand and began to push the head of it up against his entrance. He guided and pushed it inside, moaning softly as he finally got to bury himself inside William’s delicious, tight heat one inch at a time.

 

“Oh, _yes_ ,” he whispered, shutting his eyes as he assaulted William’s mouth with his own. “Yes, you _are_ such a tight little slut, aren’t you, William? I’ve been waiting for this for such a long time…”

 

William panted and squirmed as Sebastian buried his thick cock deep within his abused body, and he went weak against the blankets.

 

“Mmm, I —  yes,” he gasped, fingers tightening against the fabric as his captor began to move within him. This was something people didn’t really know about William Spears; he exercised control in all aspects of his life, so when it came to the bedroom, he just loved being absolutely dominated.

 

Men like Sebastian were exactly what he loved being fucked by, minus the…sociopathy and severe violent tendencies. Sebastian’s dirty talk lit the fire inside, just like being treated as a submissive could. So wrong. This was so, so wrong and foolish, but William was dying to feel anything besides pain, and he wanted this beautiful monster to ravish him. Right now, it felt just as overwhelming a need as his morphine withdrawals.

 

“Does my body feel good for you?” he moaned in between their heated, vicious kisses. “I want to be the best you’ve ever had.”

 

Sebastian gripped William’s thighs tightly, burying his fingernails into the flesh, and began to move very quickly considering he had not used any lubrication. No doubt he was currently tearing up his prisoner’s insides, but he didn’t care. The friction was fucking incredible, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

 

“Yes, _very_ good,” he purred, clinging to William’s hips for balance. “You’re so delightfully tight…I should have done this much sooner.” He was soon ravaging William’s neck and shoulders with his teeth and lips, leaving bright red marks wherever he went, and even blood wherever the skin was thinnest and he had broken through it. “Keep moaning like that, you shameless little hussy, and you just might end up my best.”

 

A hand swept down abruptly and made contact with the flesh on William’s backside, followed by a powerful burning, stinging sensation, and then the same action was repeated on the other side.

 

“ _Scream_ , why don’t you…”

 

William found himself making a peculiar sound when Sebastian's firm, powerful hand fell upon his backside.  


" _I-iya_ — !" He felt his entire being quiver from sheer arousal.  
  
The only reason not being lubricated didn't bother William was because of the wonderful morphine in his system. He was very grateful for it. "Nnn, I-I feel...s-so hot...you're going to make me...lose control..."  


So starved for satisfaction, he was pushing himself down onto Sebastian's cock as deep as he could, panting with his mouth open and hot cheeks flushed with delight. **  
**  


"Then lose it," Sebastian ordered, whispering into William's ear, sheathing himself entirely inside William. He panted in a rhythm right along with his captive, thrusting in and out of him with a monstrous, feral energy, savoring the engulfing, tight warmth around his cock. William was... _perfection_ . Sebastian never wanted this to end; this sort of carnal pleasure was something that he hadn't experienced in _years_ . He had no idea how starved he'd been until now.  
  
The devil swiftly delivered another precise smack onto William's backside, directly over the first one. "You've been such a naughty boy," he gasped between thrusts, bending over William and reaching up to grasp his member, observing William's hot, messy face. " _So_ naughty. Are you sorry...?  
  
William's pupils dilated as he listened to Sebastian's words, breath hitching when his cock was gripped. It pulsed keenly within Sebastian's grip, wet with precum. "Y-yes," he whined, turning his head towards the blankets submissively. "I've been s-so naughty — papa —  just destroy me. Please. I'm just a h-hole for you to fill up however you please...just _fuck it — !_ " Right in the kink, once again, completely obliviously on Sebastian's part.  
  
Sebastian blinked at this reaction, breathing hard with the exertion of his thrusts, and began to piece together exactly what about this was making William so especially hot. Oh, dear...a man with some daddy issues, perhaps?  
  
He had to make sure.  
  
"Papa's going to do so much more than that," he panted into William's ear, choking back a moan of pleasure as William tightened around him again. "Papa's going to _eviscerate_ you unless you promise to be good for him again. Papa wants a _good_ little whore who'll suck his cock whenever he wants. Are _you_ going to be a good little whore? After all, if you satisfy me, I might give you that good medicine you like so much..."

 

Medicine...William's other big kink right now. Basic pain relief.  
  
The crippled psychiatrist's entire body clenched tight around Sebastian's magnum dong in utter delight. "I'll be whatever you want me to be," he whispered, biting his lip as he met Sebastian's eyes. "I'll be good. I'm good. _A-aaah_!" **  
**  


Fuck...Sebastian wasn't going to last much longer at this rate. He had William moaning like a little bitch, he'd just discovered a massive kink of William's, and the sensations were driving him _wild_ .  
  
"Be papa's little whore and you'll get your medicine without a fuss," he hissed, leaving angry red marks in William's hip where he gripped him, and pumping William's cock furiously. The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, with the increasing speed of Sebastian's thrusts. He groaned softly as he readjusted his angle, and began to penetrate William even more deeply than before, this time ramming up against the brunet's prostate.  
  
At this point William grasped Sebastian's long hair and cried out loudly. "I — I'm going to cum!" he gasped, more than a little fearfully, because he didn't know if he was allowed to yet.   
  
Sebastian was only seconds away from climax himself; he was going to allow it. "Let it out," he gasped, his breaths harsh and thrusts erratic. "Let it happen — I'm — _fuck_ , ah...nnn...!"  
 "Come for me, William...!"

"I'm _cuh_ — I'm coming. Sebastian. I'm coming," he whispered feverishly. His fingers (the ones that were not broken, of course) tightened in the man's raven locks and he spasmed suddenly, a gasp tearing from his throat as hot cum proceeded to spurt freely from the tip of his cock. Bliss moved freely across his face as he got the orgasm he'd needed for so, so long.  
  
Sebastian let out a strangled, hoarse moan as he buried himself completely inside William one last time, hips cringing with desperation, and emptied his hot seed deep inside the battered doctor. William's name fell from his lips again and again until Sebastian had completely spent himself, and he gasped sharply, pulling out and collapsing beside the other man, breathing hard.

  
"Incre... _incredible_ ," he uttered between breaths, eyes lidded heavily. "You beautiful little whore...absolutely...astounding..."  
  
William, high on bliss and morphine, lay completely limp in the blankets. One hand lazily ran its fingers through the semen leaking out of his entrance, smearing it lewdly. "H...haa...I hope it went in deep...deep enough to impregnate me..." he whispered. Without a doubt, he was completely out of it.  
  
Sebastian laughed with what little energy he had, weakly flopping an arm across his eyes and chuckling. "One could only hope," he breathed, feeling better than he had in a long time. Ah, he'd forgotten the afterglow of sex...of real sex, not just orgasm from masturbation. It was something glorious.  
  
On top of that, he'd discovered quite the interesting kink of William's, which he'd be quite certain to exploit in the future.  
  
"Mm," William answered, burrowing closer to the scar-chested man affectionately. However, no further foolishness was to spill from his mouth, because within minutes he'd passed out completely from the sheer exertion of his actions.  
  
_This was a mistake. You're vile, William. You're vile for enjoying this with a man like that. Have you no shred of decency left...? Surely you should lay down and die already, since you've relinquished any shred of self-respect..._ _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love reviews ;)


	7. Loyalty Pledged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything could change on an unassuming afternoon. William's fate lies in his own hands.

Things were quiet and even ordinary for a couple of weeks after that. Sebastian kept William upstairs, handcuffed by his leg to a bedpost, but was largely civil to him. A routine was quickly established in which Sebastian gave William three set meal times each day in addition to his three allotted bathroom breaks. The schedule helped them both, and made things a little more predictable and bearable.    
  
One thing that was certainly a noticeable change, however, was the quality of the food that Sebastian prepared for the two of them. No longer was it just watery porridge, canned instant coffee, and dry toast, but a variety of things began to appear, like fruits, vegetables and seasonings. The little house smelled wondrous whenever Sebastian cooked a meal for them. They ate the same thing at the same time; no longer did Sebastian serve William his cold scraps. William ate warm, fresh foods now.   
  
About a fortnight after Sebastian had finally claimed William, he came home after a morning out with an armload of groceries; all fresh vegetables. Most of them he stored in his old refrigerator, but he brought a cucumber to William to share as a treat. It was cool to the touch, and wonderfully firm and crisp. Sebastian knew very well how to pick the best ingredients for whatever he made.   
  
"Don't say I never give you anything," he told William with a playful smirk as he handed him half of the cucumber. "Today's lunch will be stuffed bell peppers. I hope you're ready."   
  
William blankly held the cucumber in his hand, his eyes glued to Sebastian's face.    
  
"You...your hair," he mumbled. Sebastian had gotten a haircut, it seemed, with his long, lifeless hair being brought back to life. The length was back to a short, masculine style, but with two locks of hair at the sides that reached his chin, and neatly parted bangs. Sebastian looked like a wholly different person, quite frankly. It brought out his startling eyes, and poor William, whose own hair was approaching Sebastian's length at the back, was unwillingly captivated.    
  
"Um...i-it's nice..."   
  
Sebastian's smirk grew wider, and he was satisfied. It was incredible what kind of a transformation could occur with just one visit to a barber; Sebastian didn't look nearly so scraggly as he had the night he'd found William. His hair was healthier, as he'd opted to have it deeply conditioned and rinsed like he couldn't do at home. He almost looked like a movie star, if it weren't for the shabby clothes. Well, that much would be fixed soon anyway; he planned on going to the nearby charity shops for some (relatively) new clothes. Just because he had a bit more money to spend didn't mean he was going to go on any extravagant shopping sprees.   
  
"Thank you," he replied with his chin up, casually flicking a midnight lock out of his eyes. "I'm glad you like it. If you'd like, I could do something similar for you. You look like you've grown an inch or so, haven't you?"   
  
William went a little bit red, nervously pushing his slightly floppier fringe out of his eyes. "A-ah..." he mumbled. "Y-yes, it has. I would never let it get past two inches." Then he looked down at his nails, which were the approximate length of a woman's, and he curled his fingers to hide them. Back before Sebastian, William had immaculate self-grooming habits, as part of his OCD. Now, he had no choice but to let that go to hell. At least Sebastian let him shave and brush his teeth, and the occasional shower, it seemed liveable...but he certainly didn't enjoy it.   
  
Sebastian crouched down to be at an even level with William, smiling calmly at him. "Some haircutting scissors would come in handy about now, wouldn't they?" he asked with an underlying hint of venom in his voice. "It's a shame I had to throw mine away. They were getting rusty, though, so I suppose I didn't have a choice. Perhaps I'll have to invest in a new pair. We'll see, depending on if you're good for Papa or not."   
  
He stood up again, gently stroking a hand under William's chin, and then tenderly ruffling his hair, before he stepped away to go fix their lunch, feeling a bit smug.   
  
William stared down into his lap, because at that moment he couldn't bear to spend another second looking at Sebastian's face now that he was reminded of how he got that immense scar over his cheek.    
  
He'd permanently disfigured him, and that caused a blossoming guilt within his slender chest. "I'll be good," he said under his breath.

Almost immediately, the sound of food preparation came from the small kitchen, and soon after, delicious smells followed. Sebastian stood at his little stove, sautéing the filling he was going to use, and hollowing out the peppers at the small countertop next to it. He found himself smiling bittersweetly as he recalled how his son had passionately hated bell peppers and adamantly refused to eat them no matter what he was bribed with.

With a pang of grief in his heart, Sebastian quickly shook the thought away and managed to focus on the task at hand so that nothing was burnt. Just as he was finishing up, though, the most unexpected thing happened:   
  
There was a knock at the door.   
  
Sebastian froze, his eyes darting to the door; no one had ever visited him here in all the time he'd lived here. Hell, he didn't think anyone even knew where he was. He immediately glanced toward the bedroom, wondering if William had somehow obtained his phone. But...no, Sebastian had hidden it well out of William's reach. It was impossible. Still, the disgraced doctor couldn't help but feel paranoid about it — who was this? What did they want? Did they know about William? Had they come looking?   
  
Shock and unease made the hairs stand up on the back of William’s neck when he heard the knock at the door. He’d truthfully dreamed of this for the longest time. This was his chance!    
  
A chance to get out, be free, get his life back and be away from this terrifying maniac. All he had to do was call out, bang, scream and make any noise he could, and he might be safe in a hospital bed within the hour.    
  
He just had to call out...!   
  
Sebastian's heart began to pound in his chest, but he remained composed. Whatever happened now...it would happen. Maybe this madness would finally end. Moving woodenly, Sebastian turned the fire off and walked the few paces to the door. He took a deep breath, relaxing himself, and unlocked the door, peeking out.   
  
Standing on the front step was a police officer.   
  
“Good afternoon,” the officer greeted. He was a tall, imposing man. Taller even than Sebastian, with dark — almost violet — hair beneath his policeman’s cap, and pale eyes that lured you in like a fly into a spider’s web. 

 

“How are you today, sir? I’m just here following up on a missing persons report,” he said smoothly, with a faint German inflection in his British tones. “His name is Dr. William T. Spears, and he went missing a few weeks back. His car was recently found in the vicinity of your, uh...”   
  
He pursed his lips, toying with which word would be the best one to describe Sebastian’s ramshackle home.    
  
“Your shack. Sebastian Michaelis, isn’t it?”   
  
Sebastian swallowed thickly, making full eye contact with the officer. "I am he," he said calmly, though internally he was beginning to panic. When on earth had they found the car?! Wouldn't they have heard someone looking nearby? "A missing person, you say? I'm afraid I don't get out much, and I haven't seen anyone around these parts."   
  
Somewhere beneath his panic, he felt a prick of irritation at the officer's need to insult his poverty.  _ You might have said 'residence', you arse... _ __  
__  
“Really?” the officer asked with a near-coquettish tilt of his head. He carefully held up a crumpled Missing poster of William’s handsome visage — so vibrant, so healthy-looking in every possible interpretation. Cool, confident, assured. Everything he deserved to be. Beneath that face, a £10,000 reward was offered for any information that resulted in finding William.    
  
Sebastian, for one, was looking pale and skittish, the officer noted. His thin lips pursed again. “Perhaps this might jog your memory, if you really put your mind to it.” No one forgot a face like William’s...   
  
Sebastian took the poster into his hands and pretended to scrutinize it very carefully. The William in this picture was so far beyond everything Sebastian had seen; even on that fateful day when they had first met, William had been broken. Sebastian had never seen him like this, and something ached deep within his chest.   
  
£10,000...it would be enough to buy groceries for the next fifteen years, if spent carefully. Sebastian had no way to claim such a reward, regardless; giving William up meant admitting he'd been held against his will, tortured, and abused. Either way, Sebastian lost.   
  
"What would such a beautiful man be doing in a place like this?" Sebastian asked with a bitter smile. "I'm sorry. I have not seen him. I think I would know if I had."   
  
For that matter...why hadn't William made a peep? Wasn't this his chance...?   
  
The officer stared intently. 

“He was in an accident. No body was found in the vehicle, but blood led away from the site in this direction. It would have been hard not to notice a loud crash like this,” he remarked.    
  
“That’s a nasty scar on your face there, Mr. Michaelis. It looks fairly recent...”   
  
Damnit, this officer was thorough...not like most others Sebastian had dealt with in his time. He couldn't resist reaching up and touching his scar self-consciously.  "Oh...that's...I had an accident, myself," he murmured, running his fingers along it. "I was cutting my hair when I slipped. My roof leaks often, and with all this rain we've had lately...I suppose it was bound to happen, wasn't it?"   
  
He turned and looked up at his roof as if to prove a point, just praying that this damn cop would go the hell away. "It's quite loud when it rains. Even a crash might have been drowned out...how long ago did you say the accident was, officer...?"   
  
“Would be about a month now,” replied the cop. “There are a few people out there searching quite desperately for him, see, so I was sent out on another patrol. Are you  _ sure _ you don’t know anything?” 

There was certainly a note of impatience in the tall German’s voice that Sebastian couldn’t quite place as he shook his head for his dissent. A long and tense moment passed, and the policeman did peer around Sebastian, down the hall of his home. It was quiet, and he was listening intently, as if almost sure he had his man.    
  
Clearly there was nothing he could do, however, and finally he stepped back and adjusted his golden-framed glasses. “Well, if anything comes to mind...call the station, won’t you? Have a good day.”   
  
Sebastian nodded slowly, his heart hammering madly in his chest. "Yes, sir, of course," he replied meekly. "Thank you for stopping by."   
  
When the officer finally turned to leave, Sebastian quietly shut the door and locked it again. Now hidden from prying eyes, he let his body shake as it needed to, and it was so bad that he couldn't stand up. This had gone  _ far  _ too well. Suspiciously well. William hadn't made a peep, and the officer had not asked to search the premises. In fact, that he'd left at  _ all  _ felt like a miracle.    
  
Trembling to the point of nausea, Sebastian crept down his hallway in search of William. There was no call, no sound, even once Sebastian stepped into the bedroom. When he realized that the bedroom was empty, however, his blood immediately ran cold. Escaped — ? No — the window did not open, and it was intact. William had been chained to the bed. There was only one way in or out of the house, and it would have been impossible for William to escape without being noticed by Sebastian and the officer. 

Hiding, then? But why?

Sebastian walked slowly into the room, glancing around, looking for any sort of clue, when — he spotted a cabinet against the wall that had one of its doors slightly ajar. He knelt by it and swung the cabinet door open with a gentle creak, discovering William huddled inside.

Sebastian couldn't help it; his mouth fell open a little. Wasn't this a man who was traumatized by tight spaces...? How on earth...Why...!? Thousands of questions roared through his mind and he didn't have any capacity to even acknowledge them. All he knew was that William was still here, and he was still safe. 

"William?" he heard himself whisper as he reached out to him.   
  
The brunet was curled up in the corner, covering his eyes with his bandaged hands. A tremor had encompassed his entire body, along with a cold sweat. When Sebastian opened the doors, he cringed, but lowered his hands hesitantly.    
  
"I — I stayed," he uttered. "I kept myself hidden. I was good, wasn't I?"   
  
White as a ghost, shivering, deeply malnourished...William truly was a mere shadow of the handsome doctor shown in the Missing poster.   
  
Sebastian just stared at him for a moment, speechless as he took the shivering man into his own, equally tremulous arms and embraced him firmly. 

He hugged him tightly once William was out of the cupboard, protecting him, clinging to him for his own comfort.   
  
“But why?” he heard himself whisper, the only thing he could think about. “You could have escaped. You could have called out and rescued yourself. The officer would have found you and arrested me. You would have been safe. Why did you hide...?”   
  
William shook his head quickly, grabbing tightly to Sebastian's body. “I said I-I'd help you, didn't I?" he whispered. “I promised. I’m  _ good _ . I don’t disobey.”    
  
"You  _ are  _ so good," Sebastian assured, letting William grab at him, and holding him in a tight embrace in return

God...no, why did seeing his face like this make his heart ache so much...? Sebastian didn't want to see him cry. He cradled William against his breast, holding his head, and surrounded him with his warmth. 

"You are tremendously good, even to a fault. Even though...we both know it would have been better for both of us if you had saved yourself…”   
  
"If it's better I'm gone, why don't you send me home...?" William asked, drawing a shuddering breath and looking up with wet lashes clinging to one another. 

Sebastian was so warm and comforting right now; even though his body had been used to hurt William's own so very often, William didn't want to be anywhere else but in his arms.

Sebastian held William tighter. "You're the psychologist, are you not?" he asked with a quiet, bitter smile. "I'm sure you understand codependency far more intimately than I do."    
  
With a little more strength in his legs, the raven stood up carefully, William still in his arms, and then carried him to the bed to gently set him down there.   
  
"I need you like a drug," he whispered, as he climbed over poor William and laid closely beside him, his warmest blanket atop them both. "I just...I cannot...I don't want to let you go."

William’s heart was torn.  _ Maybe I really am a fool beyond help, _ he thought, as Sebastian took him into his bed and they cuddled. So used to harsh touch, this tender hold meant all the more. William reciprocated, and as they lay together, warmth slowly began to seep back into his broken bones. 

“You think we’re...codependent?” he mumbled. ”You  _ need  _ me...?”   
  
Sebastian tucked his face into the crook of William’s neck. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I think so. You’re all I have left in the world, and twisted every way that it is, I need you. You are...the last thread of sanity I have left. I truly did not believe I would stay alive this long, so...you’re the only purpose I have left. Your suffering is no longer my priority.” How clarifying it felt to have these words come out his mouth.    
  
“The burning rage that I had before...I can’t feel it now. At best, there are weak embers still smoldering, but I can’t bring myself to stoke the fire.”

  
He held William closer. “Ultimately, I’m most likely terrified of being alone again. No one spoke to me the way you do since...”  
  
He trailed off. He didn’t want to think about Vincent. Thinking of his greatest loss only made him cold with fear now. After all, if William left now...what would Sebastian have then?  
  
“I know,” William said quickly, soothingly, not wanting Sebastian to grow distressed from thinking about his dead husband. It was good to hear the man opening up about his feelings, but William was too shaken up to be of much psychological use right now.   
  
“It’s just us. Just you and I here. No one will take me away from you, Sebastian. I’m...I’m yours.”  
  
Of all things, Sebastian felt a gentle heat rise in his cheeks when he heard this. _Oh, William..._ __  
__  
“I’m afraid we’re stuck with each other, then,” he murmured in exhaustion. “How glad I am that you are here. I only wish the circumstances were better.”   
  
Sebastian was sure William felt a little colder after that. After a moment, he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “The bell peppers,” he mumbled quite suddenly, and climbed off of William to go turn off the stove he’d left on. When he came back, it was with their lunch, and they ate the partially singed stuffed bell peppers in relative quiet. Neither of them had the emotional energy to continue their conversation, or engage another, for most of the rest of the evening. Instead, they opted to simply absorb each other’s presence. It was a relief when the lights went out for the night, and Sebastian climbed back into bed with William. The raven was out cold in minutes, bundled under the blankets with the crippled doctor. Their limbs intertwined, guarding each other against the cold with their warm bodies, even in Sebastian's sleep.  
  
William didn't like bell peppers either, but he'd never have said so. He was simply grateful for something to eat, and eager to climb back into Sebastian's arms. He was warm, fed and drugged up on morphine, so he was not going to complain. All he needed was some rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! It's been a while, hasn't it? Thank you for all your patience and support, and please look forward to the next chapters!


	8. Journey Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw sexual abuse

However, as the minutes blurred into an hour, then another...William could stare only at the backs of his eyes. Sleep wasn't coming. And as he lay beside the man who had broken him more than any car crash ever could, watching his scarred chest rise and fall...he knew that if he wanted to escape, he could kill Sebastian right now.  
  
As if he'd somehow felt the murderous vibes emanating from William, Sebastian's eyes slowly opened in the darkness.   
  
He glanced sidelong at the man, feeling his stare, but did not seem surprised that he was being watched. Somewhat drowsy, but impassive, he murmured, "You couldn't sleep?"   
  
_What sort of thing is this man thinking about?_ It could be good, but it could also be very, very bad.   
  
"...The nightmares," William answered softly, hesitantly withdrawing his proximity from the  handsome raven and feeling a little shocked and guilty at himself for what he’d been thinking.   
  
After everything he’d done today to prove his devotion, he only had himself to blame for still being stuck here.   
  
"I thought sleep was an escape, but...of late, it's only been worse..."   
  
  
“I see,” Sebastian replied, watching William draw away from him. He sat up in the bed a little, the mattress creaking and blankets rustling in the silence. “That’s a shame. What does someone like you have nightmares about? You cry out, sometimes...”   
  
He rubbed his eyes a little, glancing at his bedside clock radio. The ancient LCD display was dim, barely functioning as an old appliance, but as long as it still kept time, Sebastian would keep it. It was the wee hours of the night with several hours still until dawn, and he sighed, and then shivered suddenly, drawing one of his blankets around him.   
  
William pulled his blankets up over his broken form, shifting his hips a little. "I, well..."   
  
It was hard to be truthful here. Would Sebastian be angry, insulted?   
  
"Truthfully...my nightmares make me relive the punishments you have inflicted upon me," he confessed, finally deciding it was best to be honest. "Breaking my bones. The safe. The acid. Being starved for food, morphine, the basic dignities a man should be afforded...I relive it all over and over…That is the truth, and I hope you will forgive me."   
  
Sebastian looked at William, but for once, didn't appear to be offended. In fact, he appeared a little difficult to read at all. Whatever he was feeling, it wasn't angry. If anything, it was merely...tired.   
  
"I see," he repeated in quiet thoughtfulness. "That's understandable. Anyone would have nightmares after what I put you through. I suppose it was a foolish question..."   
  
Like he'd said before, he really couldn't feel the burning hatred he'd possessed at first. It made him wonder what it would take to set him off again and begin the abuse again. Perhaps he was just growing too tired to even bother with it. He didn't know.   
  
Absently, he put the blanket around William's shoulders to keep him warmer. "I'm sorry, too," he whispered. "I've put you through Hell."   
  
"My body...hurts..." WIlliam whispered, leaning against him.  "My legs feel so numb, I-I can barely feel them, and I’m always c-cold." A strong shiver overwhelmed him, and he clung tighter.   
  
"It's like sleep paralysis, only I'm awake, and the nightmare won't end..."   
  
Sebastian automatically, without even thinking, put an arm around William and held him closely, almost protectively. Honestly, he couldn't help but wonder if, in the case William was discovered and rescued, the man would ever walk on his own two feet again.   
  
Likely not, he surmised, glancing at the shape of William's legs beneath the covers. He couldn't see the injuries right now, but he didn't have to in order to know just how horrific they were. It had been a month and William had had no professional medical attention, or even so much as a splint, and had suffered nightmarish abuse.   
  
If he ever walked again, it would be a miracle.   
  
Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment, and then bundled William up in one of the blankets before pulling him into his lap. He stood up with him, holding him closely, and carried him quietly out to the living room, where the fireplace was.   
William was placed delicately down on the thin rug, then Sebastian knelt in front of the fireplace in order to light it. In just a few short minutes, a little blaze had caught, and the lumber nestled safely inside began to burn comfortably.   
  
It was the only fire Sebastian could stand, and even then, it had taken him a very long time. After losing Vincent and Ciel to the powerful element, fire was hard to look at. A fireplace, though...it had become a necessity in this small and drafty shack. He'd learned to tolerate it.   
  
"I can't end your nightmare, William," Sebastian whispered. "I can only ease it from time to time. I'm sorry."   
  
William didn’t respond. He stared quietly at the fire for a long time, letting it warm his icy body. He understood that Sebastian could never let him go, and that he would probably die here. But it felt so good in Sebastian’s arms, and he had no lover out there missing him...so if he died here, it was fine.   
  
“I know,” he finally mumbled. “That’s okay. I was cruel to you, so I deserve it.”   
  
Sebastian did not sit down with William yet; he moved around in the kitchen. A saucepan was put onto the stove, and milk was poured into it. A tin can with the distinct aroma of cocoa powder was opened.   
  
"Disproportionate retribution," he announced quietly, watching the saucepan. "You deserved some of it. Not all. The safe and the acid...even I know that that was...reprehensible. I probably should not have done it."   
  
William kept his lips pursed, scrutinising his captor cautiously. Was he making...hot cocoa? Of course Sebastian’s actions were reprehensible, and it was good that he was capable of recognising such, but William remained his prisoner nonetheless.   
  
He blinked, and suddenly Sebastian was sitting in front of him with two cups of hot cocoa and gazing at him concernedly.   
  
Another absence seizure. Damn it all...   
  
“N-nngh...” the brunet moaned, holding his head as it throbbed.   
  
Sebastian set the cups down on the floor and inspected William, gently cradling his head and looking into his eyes. "Seizure," he whispered as he checked him out, looking for signs of anything worse. "Ninety seconds...a shorter one, but you already had three today. How dreadful..."   
  
He couldn't stop his hands, smoothing William's hair back over and over like he used to do with Vincent and Ciel. How he had used to comfort Ciel when the boy was ill, which was often. William was only ill because of him; Sebastian knew it well.   
  
Damnit, it was becoming more difficult to deal with this...was it guilt?   
  
“Does it hurt?” he asked William as he cradled him, and carefully moved the cups of hot drinks out of William’s way. “Are you feeling nauseated? It may be better for you if you lie down on your side...”   
  
“I-I’m fine,” William answered, though still quite disoriented. ”If it’s fine...I’ll lean against you...”   
  
He felt like...he’d earned a little of Sebastian’s trust now. He hadn’t run away, and he hadn’t even murdered his captor when he’d had the chance. William himself was yet to understand why.   
  
"Here," Sebastian offered, gently pressing the mug into William's hands and letting him lean back. "Here, this will warm you up. Drink up..."   
  
He held William tenderly, sipping from his own mug, and closed his eyes for a moment as he let the milky hot chocolate wash over his taste buds. It had been years and years since he'd last gotten to enjoy something so delicious. It was just an ordinary tin of powdered cocoa, but...to Sebastian, it meant everything. He felt painful nostalgia well in his chest, for a split second almost wanting to cry.   
  
No — not here, and not now.   
  
"This is nice..." he murmured when he'd collected himself, passing a hand over his dark lashes to rid them of treacherous tears. "I've missed a lovely hot cocoa on a frigid night.”

 

William realized too, how long it had been since he’d thought of his old life, and the comforts he’d enjoyed. In a twisted way, it was like this was his life now. Perhaps he’d even...given up for good.   
  
The hot chocolate, an endearing and comforting treat — especially when he was vulnerable  — thrust William’s mind back to the past and the people he’d left behind. With it came the question: could such happy times be achieved with Sebastian...? He glanced across at the pale man, lashes wet and eyes glossy. Sebastian _had_ complex emotion. Surely...surely he _could_ be helped.   
  
Seeing William's glance, Sebastian quickly looked away, certain that observant William had noticed. For now, he was lucid, but he didn't know how long it would last.   
  
"Despite everything," he whispered very quietly, "I'm glad you're here right now.”   
  
The moment felt genuine tender. William felt himself relax well and truly. For a little while, even his pain wasn’t so bad. Bundled up beside a beautiful man — a sensitive man — and so warm and toasty with the fire and delicious hot cocoa, it felt really good.   
  
“I’m not leaving you,” the brunet whispered, nuzzling against him. “You don’t need to be afraid.”   
  
Maybe Sebastian might have believed him at that moment, given everything he’d done for him, but when the distinct sound of the ringtone of William’s personal phone rang out, what Sebastian thought immediately ceased to matter.   
  
Red Hot Chili Peppers. William would know it anywhere.   
  
His heart leapt — he sat bolt upright, looking around wildly. “{Where — } My phone — where — ?!”   
  
Sebastian about leaped out of his skin when he was startled by the phone. _Shit_ ...!!! He’d meant to turn it back off after charging it up, but hadn’t he at least turned the volume down?! Evidently not. He immediately grabbed William, holding him back, and tried to shush him.   
  
“Stop it — it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Sebastian uttered, covering William’s mouth with his hand. Damnit, damnit, damnit!! Why had it have to go off?! Why _now_ ?   
  
William’s eyes widened with something that was inevitably desperation — that stark reminder of his past life yet again. People cared...! _Father, oh god, I’m sorry—!_

He daren’t ask, but he’d never wanted anything more in his entire life, and the sheer need had his lip quivering like a child.   
  
“M-my phone,” he stammered, every ring piercing his ears and his heart. “Someone’s...calling me...someone wants...to talk to me...”   
  
Sebastian's blood pulsed madly in all the veins in his body. "It's no one. Nobody. No one is missing you; I'm all you need," he muttered, pulling William away from the sound. "It must only be a telemarketer. You've been gone so long. No one remembers you. The only one you need is me, don't you understand...?!"   
  
Sebastian didn't know what he'd do if William _did_ leave. The quicker he removed this idea from William's head, the better.   
  
All at once the ringing stopped, followed by the beep that signified the call had gone to voicemail. Someone was leaving him a voicemail! At this very moment, someone was speaking to William. And he couldn’t answer them.   
  
“I’m — not going anywhere, I just...I just want to _hear_ ....”   
  
"You don't _need_ to hear," Sebastian protested, covering William's ears up with his hands and trying to force him to make eye contact. "There's no one for you there. There's nothing to hear. I'm all that matters now, don't you understand? You don't need to hear anyone's voice...you don't."   
  
But William's desperation...even Sebastian had to admit that he probably couldn't stave it off. He knew what sort of crippling loneliness he must have been feeling at this point, and the mad things one would do to end that. And here was his phone, someone on the other side trying to reach him.

  
  
William began to struggle, heart breaking as Sebastian told him he was not wanted at all. “But — it could be Father!” he whispered. “Please let me just tell him I’m okay, and that I love him, h-he needs to know; he doesn’t deserve to suffer, Sebastian!”   
  
Sebastian felt a cold stab of fear and rage bloom in his chest when he heard this, and he drew back a little, prickling with jealousy. No. No, it wasn't acceptable. It was very clear that William's loyalties were not as solid as he had claimed that afternoon, and Sebastian was going to have to set him straight again.   
  
"I said _no_ ," he said sharply, yanking William roughly back again, and before he even thought twice, he slapped William across the cheek to force him back into submission.   
  
"I don't care _who_ it is! You can't answer it! You chose to stay with _me_ , remember?! That's the choice you made!"   
  
William’s head snapped sideways, and it took him a good five seconds to look back at Sebastian, quite clearly taken aback.   
  
“You...you... _hit_ me...” he uttered in disbelief, licking the taste of blood from inside his cheek. “I thought...”   
  
Sebastian gripped William's shoulders and pinned him down to the floorboards, breathing hard. " _I_ thought," he growled, "that you were loyal. I thought you _knew_ who you belonged to."   
  
Behind him, the phone chirped to indicate that the voicemail had been left. Sebastian ignored it, instead piercing his gaze direction into William's very soul.   
  
"I _thought_ ," the maddened doctor continued, "that we had an understanding. But it has become apparent that you still need to be shown that you are mine, and mine only."   
  
William tried to swallow, but it was as if his whole throat had seized up. “Wh-what do you care about the ones I love? You have me here! I can never leave, so what do you care?!”   
  
Something in Sebastian’s eyes screamed ‘hurt’. William didn’t understand; he was too afraid, with this man pinning him to the floor who had seconds ago been so kind and comforting. If only William had known what was coming. What was he going to do?   
  
Oh, god — was Sebastian going to kill him?!   
  
It could be argued that what Sebastian had in mind was a fate worse than death. Death would have been kinder.   
  
Sebastian responded to William's argument by ripping the bespectacled man's shirt open with such force that buttons went flying across the room. His eyes blazed and he held William tightly, heart _burning_ — this man, his heart still belonged to others. It had to be _fixed_ .   
  
"It doesn't matter if I have your body here," Sebastian whispered, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted. Jealousy was churning his guts like a sickening poison, and he could not be rid of it. "If your heart is not mine as well, then there is no point."   
  
William cried out, feeling very exposed. “What are you doing?!” he gasped. “Please — Sebastian, listen to me — I’m sorry! I messed up! It’s fine! Destroy my phone if you want! I’ll think of no one but you, be no one but yours, if that’s what you need!”   
  
The raven wasn’t listening. He wasn’t _there_ .   
  
“I just — I didn’t think you’d fall in love with me!” the cripple blurted, trying to hold back Sebastian’s strong arms. William was far too atrophied and weak, especially with the morphine. He, as usual, was helpless.   
  
Sebastian fell deathly silent at these words, staring into William's eyes with an unreadable expression. In truth, his mind had shut down at the fury and indignity of it all, but this time, it offered him a moment of calculation. The fact that William had the sheer brass to utter such a thing was what left Sebastian without words in the first place; it was the _meaning_ of what had been said that kept him silent.   
  
"I see," Sebastian whispered in a soft voice, like a viper about to strike. "You're a clever man, aren't you, Mr. Spears? You know everything there is to know about me. You're a psychologist, after all; by now you must have me memorized inside and out. So of course you would know something like that, wouldn't you?"   
  
William’s wide eyes flicked back and forth between Sebastian’s own, his mouth slightly ajar as a very cold chill ran down his spine. “I — I didn’t mean — but it’s okay, y-you know? It’s _good_ , and healthy!” he stammered, feeling physically nauseous with fear.   
  
“I’ll be good for you, damn it...Why won’t you listen?!”   
  
Sebastian responded by taking hold of William's trousers, forcing them open just as violently as the shirt, and yanking them down his thighs.   
  
"Yes. Yes, you will be good," Sebastian purred, "you'll be especially good after I've taught you your place in this house."   
  
While he kept William pinned down with one arm, he used his free hand to undo his own pants. The intention was unmistakable.

  
“I know my place!” he cried, pushing feebly at the man’s chest, trying to lift a broken knee between them. For his troubles, he had the knee struck by Sebastian’s fist. Something crunched, arguably one of the many shards of bone that floated within that shattered kneecap. A twisted cry of agony left him, and he writhed underneath the monster.   
  
With deft fingers, Sebastian took his cock out, hardly concerned by William's struggles. "Oh, William," he sighed with a smile and a shake of a head, like a playfully indulgent father, "if you knew your place, you wouldn't have opened your mouth, now, would you? It only stands to reason that you need to be taught a lesson."   
  
Sebastian wasn't very aroused, but his tension was so high and his pulse was racing so quickly that it took very little to get himself to full mast. Even towering over William like this was giving him a thrill, and the idea of claiming him again was quite enticing as well. Taking William would require very little effort. He smiled and rested a hand on William's ruined knee, rubbing his thumb carelessly along the kneecap to let the man truly feel its agony.   
  
“I don’t want this!” William protested, gritting his teeth, tears of agony and fear coursing his damp cheeks. “Please, Sebastian, you don’t need to do this. I didn’t leave you today, _bastard_ , but I could have! I stayed for you!”   
  
He felt Sebastian’s cock press up against his asshole and he moaned helplessly.   
  
“I stayed. What do you think that means?!”   
  
Sebastian grinned savagely as he ground the head of his cock up against William’s entrance, hitching the man’s hips up into his lap. “You’re afraid?” he guessed with a nonchalant tilt of his head. Already, he’d begun pumping William’s cock, playing with it like a living toy.   
  
“It’s Stockholm syndrome, that’s all. It’s not that difficult to see. And now you’re more afraid than ever because you’ve crossed boundaries and made truly amusing accusations...it’s really laughable, but _you’re_ the one who’s in love with _me._ ”   
  
William gasped in pain, feeling tears of anger and betrayal course his cheeks. Sebastian was going to rape him no matter what. Even after everything they’d been through, was he so beyond help? Was all the hope William had placed in him all for nought?   
  
“I won’t forgive you. I won’t forgive you. I won’t forgive you,” he whispered through hateful sobs. William was infuriated. At Sebastian, at himself — it was a goddamn nightmare situation, and it was never going to end if William didn’t _end it._ _  
_ _  
_ A strange, unfamiliar cry of rage suddenly left his throat, and he felt his left hand flail for something, anything he could use to defend himself. In his wild groping, he burnt himself on the fireplace, gouged out a strip of flesh from his hand as it scraped an iron poker —  impossible to retrieve from its holster in his current position — then scalded himself when his hand splashed into one of their cups of hot cocoa.   
  
With this devilish monster defiling him, William was so distraught he could barely think. But if God existed, he was smiling on William today. The brunet managed to hook his fingers around the cup handle, smash it against the tiles of the fireplace, and in one swift motion blindly take hold of a sizeable shard.   
  
With all his might, squeezing so tightly that blood ran down his fingers, he lunged forward and slashed at his captor’s face.   
  
_Please — this time, won’t you please die?!_   
  
A soft gasp of surprise pushed past Sebastian’s lips at the abrupt slash. He felt his skin part in the shard’s wake, and his warm blood welled to the surface along the line before overflowing and spilling down his cheek, silent and crimson.   
  
This time, however, Sebastian did not lash out in a rage. The ceramic mug shard crossed the first wound, forming an X shape on his face, and he sat back in a shocked daze, raising his hand to the sharp, pulsing wound.   
  
All at once, in a single instant, his assault ceased, and he stared at William through his fingers, not even responding with the tranquil fury that had begun the assault — he just sat back onto his heels, staring at William with wide eyes.   
  
Gradually, the look on his face shifted from one of numb surprise to one of horror as something else began to dawn on him. If William was right — and he was — this was not...this should never, ever be the way Sebastian treated him. For just a moment, he could imagine Vincent there before him, defiled and terrified, bleeding hand holding a sharp piece of broken ceramic that had been grabbed in desperation.   
  
Never in a thousand years would the old Sebastian have ever conceived of doing such a thing to Vincent. And now, William...   
  
"No," Sebastian suddenly choked out, slowly shaking his head and never taking his eyes off of William. "Oh, no, I've — what have I — William, I’m — I’m sorry!”   
  
William had scrambled away in a crawl, using his dwindling upper body strength, and leaned against the icy opposite wall, clutching his shard of glass and his shirt for modesty. Hyperventilation. This was a new one, right? Sheer, raw terror. He’d failed to kill Sebastian a second time...and he wouldn’t get a chance to try again, that was for sure.   
  
He remembered every threat Sebastian had ever made; cutting out his eyes, or his tongue, or manhood. Acid on the face, quadruple amputation...the things a surgeon was capable of could really be monstrous in the wrong hands.   
  
Without a doubt, William had earned one of these punishments. Permanent disfigurement.   
  
“{Please},” he wept, so distraught he could no longer muster his second tongue.

The pool of hot, golden liquid licking the undersides of his thighs was a testament to his fear.

“{Leave me be...!}”

Sebastian watched the golden pool beneath William's legs expand, and he didn't need to understand the words being spoken; the scent of urine spoke for itself.

Sebastian knew the man was terrified, and he had every right and reason to be...but now, Sebastian couldn't do it anymore. All interest in harming, punishing, and torturing William had come to an end. He backed away from William, unsteady on his feet, and stumbled away to the bedroom.

He was gone for less than a minute, but when he returned, he had three things with him -- a first aid kit, a change of clothes, and resting above the little bundle, William's phone, fully charged and full of voicemails. Sebastian approached William slowly, the wound on his face still bleeding freely, and then knelt a couple feet in front of him to set the bundle down.

By the time Sebastian came back, the brunet had already crawled all the way over to the window, and was trying to lift himself up to unlock it, even as his fingernails bled, and stared over his shoulder owlishly as his rapist loomed over him with his instruments of torture.

 

"I'm sorry,” Sebastian repeated blankly, opening the first aid kit up and showing William its contents. Bandages, salve, cotton pads, disinfectants, everything — Sebastian withdrew them from the box and held them out to William with open hands, trying to convey his intentions.

"I — I'm so sorry. This is — this is all for you. Please take it...please. Your hand is bleeding."

 

William dropped back to the floor to face his captor, and snapped his left leg outwards, kicking the metal box away.

 

“Go fuck yourself,” he spat, slashing wildly in Sebastian’s direction. “I t-trusted you! G-get away!”

 

Truth be told, Sebastian looked an absolute horror with another deep gash in his perfect face. It only heightened William’s fear. If he’d been afraid in the cupboard today, that was a drop in a teacup, and this was a boiling kettle.

 

Sebastian flinched at the kick, not advancing further so as not to be cut again. His heart ached seeing William like this, and the pain was especially strong knowing that he was the one who had made William like this in the first place. It was hard to keep his breath when he wanted to cry so badly, but right now, his body couldn't.

 

Reserved and careful, he righted the metal first aid kid and replaced its contents, though his hands were shaking, and attempted a different method of getting through to William. He went back to the phone and brought it to William, letting its lock screen illuminate for William to see, and held it out to him with both hands.

 

"T-take it...please," he whispered. "Do whatever you want. Call the police back if you'd like. Your fate is back in your hands."

 

“No — no, get back,” William cried, face streaming. “I’ll do it, I swear to god.” This was the moment he held up the shard to his throat, hand quivering, but determined. A twisted smile crossed his face.

“I’m going to do it, you bastard! You _vile cunt!_ You’ll have nothing when I’m dead, haha!!”   
  
The porcelain pressed into the left side of William’s throat. On it was part of the paint from the cup itself, depicting a raven. It would be fitting.

 

Sebastian froze for a moment, eyes widening in horror. He did not have time to think twice or analyze the situation — he could only act. He cried out and lunged forward, grabbing William's wrist with superior strength and wrenching the shard of the raven mug from William's grip.

 

His fingers were cut in the process, but he didn't care — as long as he could wrestle it away from William, it was fine. When he prised it from William's fingers, he threw it across the room, far beyond William's reach, and held the captive man as tightly as he could.

 

"No, William, no — no," Sebastian choked, his tears finally falling. "I did this to you. I'm so sorry...I can't — I can't let you do that. I can't. You're right — if you die, I really _will_ have nothing. I'm sorry I did this to you...I'm sorry."

 

William had made a gouge on his neck when Sebastian lunged at him, but slitting one's throat effectively was harder than it looked in the movies. He did no fatal damage, and let out a wail of despair as his only weapon was taken away from him. His last resort then was to claw at Sebastian uselessly, and all of a sudden he was out of puff, and simply wept like a man who had lost everything.

 

Next, he felt a sharp prick in his neck, on the good side, and relaxation filled his body. Numbness, the kind he craved daily. William almost felt like he was floating out of his body.

 

"Nnh...? Michaelis...{you'd rather see me die without a fight? C...coward...}" he mumbled, and then he was out like a light.

 

Sebastian exhaled sharply with exhaustion when William went out, and the hidden syringe of morphine rolled out of his hand and clattered onto the floor. With William unconscious, he'd have the ability to dress and bandage his wounds without a fight, as well as clean him up.

 

This was what Sebastian did. He carried William to the bathroom and washed his body with warm water and soap, then dried him and dressed him in fresh incontinence wear and clean, dry clothes. The cuts were sanitized, medicated, and bandaged, and William was relocated to the bed, tucked in with his phone within reach. Only then did Sebastian clean himself up, and when he had stitched his face up once again, he waited in the bedroom, curled up on the floor, for William to wake up.

 

Obviously William was much calmer when he awoke. The last hour felt like a massive blur, but he remembered enough to recall what went down. Sebastian could have done terrible things to his body, but...William could tell he hadn’t been violated any further, nor had Sebastian surgically mutilated him.

 

William sat up groggily, looking down at Sebastian on the floor.

What the hell was going on....?!

 

Sebastian was dozing, covered in one blanket, but when he heard William shifting and moving, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

 

"Oh," he murmured, rubbing at his eye again. "...I didn't mean to fall asleep. I...I'm sorry I had to knock you out like that. I didn't want you to hurt yourself." His heart was racing, partially from being sort of startled awake, and partially because he didn't know what William was going to do. Did he still hate him? Would he ever be forgiven?

 

"Y...your phone, it...it's right there on the bed," he added quietly, holding his blanket a little tighter around him. "If you want to free yourself now...you may. It's up to you."

 

William stared at the phone owlishly, hesitant, and afraid. Sebastian looked awfully haggard, but it was good to see that terrible gash on his face covered up. William swallowed with unease, and the pain in his neck reminded him that he'd tried to slash his own throat. Maybe Sebastian had come to terms with the fact that William would find a way to kill himself at this point, and it was useless to keep him any longer — he was broken. Or, maybe it was a test...William's last chance at redemption.  


"...Is this some...kind of sick joke...?" he mumbled, voice hoarse.  


Sebastian smoothed his hair back and shook his head, resting his hands in his lap. "No," he murmured, keeping his gaze steady. "I don't blame your suspicion and wariness, but I promise that this is no joke."  


Outside, it was still dark, but the dawn was beginning to break beyond the horizon, casting the sky in a faint shade of blue without sunlight. The birds were waking up, and their calls filled the silence between the two men inside the house. Sebastian stood up and relocated himself to the foot of the bed, keeping at a respectful distance from William.  
  
"I'm sorry again for being so rough with you and having to knock you out. I was desperate, but...I should have been more gentle. Was it too much morphine? How are you feeling?"   


"Like death is kneeling on my shoulders," William answered. The light caught the corner of his eyes, making them glow a rather eerie colour. "...As...as for how much morphine, I can ...only really say, a few cups too little. He's not... kneeling hard enough." Certainly, he felt loopy, but Sebastian would know how much morphine to safely knock someone out.

 

"I'm not sure I remember what it feels like to be alive...but for when...that shard was piercing my flesh." His eyes welled up suddenly, chest tightening, and he blinked two gentle teardrops onto the bed.  


Sebastian pursed his lips slightly, and he scooted closer, resting his hand over William's and giving it a squeeze. Seeing William like this was becoming painful — pacifying him with morphine when his injuries so badly needed real treatment.

 

"I'm sorry," the raven said quietly. "I shouldn't have let it go so far. I shouldn't have done any of it. That's why...I'm giving you your life back. I’m setting you free, William.” He reached out to his captive’s cheek, very tenderly brushing a tear off of it.   
  
"You don't have to suffer anymore."   


William raised his head, which was substantially more grey at the temples than it had been prior to his arrival. "I can leave?" he asked numbly, not daring to believe it quite yet. "...Then what...will you do...if I go?"  


"I'll turn myself in," Sebastian answered after a moment, pressing the phone into William’s hand. “Call the authorities and tell them what I've done. When they arrive, I'll be cooperative and go quietly, and you will get the medical care you truly need." He lowered his gaze, looking more like a hollow shell of a man than he had ever been, but held close to William and gripped his less acid-corroded hand for comfort.   


"Paying for my crimes is the only way to apologize to you properly. None of this was your fault. So please...free yourself while I'm still lucid, William. Don't let me take your freedom from you again."  


William’s breath had caught in his throat. There was no way this could be true, could it....?   
  
"Sebastian..." he mumbled, his throat seizing up, and his fingers anxiously caressing the familiar grooves of the buttons on his phone. “Oh, Sebastian...please forgive me,” he whispered, and dialed the three specific buttons he needed while he still had the opportunity.   
  
His heart ached, and for a split second, he almost hung up the phone. All he could do was squeeze Sebastian's hand in return as he elected for ‘police’, and a voice answered on the other end.

  
"I, uh — I’d like to report a…a kidnapping. I'm safe. I'm being released, but please come. Bring an ambulance. And whatever you do, don't hurt him."

  
"Sir, do you know your address?" asked the responder.

  
" _Promise_ me he won’t be harmed, goddamnit,” William demanded, “or I'll give you _nothing_."

  
There was a brief pause. "...If he cooperates, I promise he will not be harmed, sir."   
  
Sebastian lowered his gaze at this, at William’s insistence that his abuser not be harmed, and his throat and chest tightened in sadness. Oh, poor William, but Sebastian deserved to be gunned down the moment the police arrived; didn’t he realize that? He sighed quietly, biting his lip, but murmured the address to him to repeat to the dispatcher. Once William had done so, Sebastian cradled William possessively, and his eyes swam with tears, but they did not fall. How long would it be now? How long until they were separated forever?

 

It felt very dreamlike for both of them; Sebastian had never planned for any of this, and now he was letting William go peacefully. It was surreal, honestly, giving William and the emergency dispatcher the information that they needed. He felt like a robot as he bundled William up, keeping him warm.

  
William was asked to stay on the line even while the police and EMTs had been sent their way, and Sebastian stayed with him on the bed, rocking slowly back and forth while trying to digest what they had just done, what was happening, what was about to happen.

 

Sebastian had meditated upon doing this heavily while William was unconscious, but inwardly, he felt like panicking. Being separated from William was going to be the hardest part.

  
William felt it too. Despite everything this tortured soul had done to him, he knew that being apart from Sebastian was going to tear him in two…at least for a while. He stayed on the bed, bundled in his blankets, morphine keeping his pain away. But as he grew more lucid, he had an idea. Something that would help Sebastian...and maybe keep him from having second thoughts about his decision.

 

Looking down at his phone, he left the call screen and thumbed across to his Facebook app. 99+ notifications were available on his own account, but he didn't pause to look at them. Instead, he signed out, and turned his head to his miserable captor.

 

"Y-you would have Facebook, right? From...a few years back? If you still remember your login information...maybe Vincent and Ciel...are still alive in there."

 

Sebastian met William's gaze, his eyes widening at the very thought of it, and followed by a terrible, painful twinge in his chest when he processed the idea. All this time he had possessed William's phone, and it had _never occurred_ to him to use the Internet and look for pictures of his past life. He glanced down at the phone to the social media login screen, heart pounding and chest tightening.

 

"I-I...it's possible," he whispered, glancing back up at William again. "I do recall my login information...but I don't know if the account is still there. It's been nearly five years now." He wouldn't have much time. Surely the emergency responders would be there in minutes.   


"...May I see it...?"

 

“They don’t delete inactive accounts,” William said gently, passing the phone over to the raven. “Not even of those who have died. They make them into legacy accounts, so we may all look back fondly...”

 

He felt his heart began to race. Truth be told...he was excited for him. Sebastian was going to see his family for the first time in years, since they’d died.

 

Sebastian took the phone and held it closer to his face so he could see the screen clearly, and began to enter his information with shaking hands. It loaded for a moment, connecting to the server and loading all the information, and then...there it all was. Sebastian found his way to his profile, and there, clear as day, was his profile picture: him, Vincent, and dear Ciel, happy, together, and alive. For the first time in years, Sebastian could see their faces whole and vibrant, not charred and disfigured husks of human remains.

 

Seeing them like this, all together, pushed the tears from Sebastian’s eyes, sending them cascading down his cheeks with a heart-wrenching sob. Here they were, just out of reach, but preserved forever in the past. Sebastian had never missed them so much before this moment, and he dissolved into a mess of sobs and tears, covering his mouth to try and keep quiet. It had been so _long_. He missed them so terribly and he could never have them back. All he could do was remember their happiness now.

 

William’s heart broke in turn, seeing the two beautiful Phantomhive faces along with Sebastian’s own — the expression he wore, it was something William had never seen, and when he thought Sebastian couldn’t be any more attractive than he had been, here was the proof that once upon a time, he looked to be a god in human form. Or the devil; surely only _it_ could be so tempting. A stunningly beautiful, classy family, before they were struck down by tragedy.

 

William said nothing as Sebastian broke into tears. He figured it was better that way. But without a doubt, there was a note of grief in Sebastian’s sobs that William didn’t think was even possible for another person to make.

 

Not knowing how Sebastian might react, William wrapped his arms around him, and held him as securely as he could.

 

Sebastian allowed William to hold him, and leaned heavily into the touch while he wept and scrolled through his forgotten memories. Their very last outing together had been to the London Zoo, less than a week before the fire, and Sebastian had uploaded more than a hundred photos that evening when they had come home from their trip, most of them of Ciel. Ciel, their curious and cheerful little boy, surrounded by butterflies in one exhibit, staring at them in wonder, pointing and laughing excitedly at the penguins during their feeding time, leaning back so far to see the giraffes in their exhibits that he fell flat on his bottom — a seven-and-a-half year-old boy living the greatest life he could have, expanding his mind and loving nature, and then turning around and declaring that the lions slept just as much as his cousin Elizabeth’s cat did.

 

Sebastian made odd sounds that were a combination of laughter and crying — Ciel, so precocious and intellectual beyond his years, who used words just as big as the zookeepers did, had gotten into an argument with an older zoo patron who did not believe that birds were descended from the dinosaurs (“It’s common knowledge!” Ciel, clearly exasperated, had huffed matter-of-factly to the middle-aged man in the video. “Pick up a _book_ sometime!” This was followed by Sebastian laughing shamelessly behind the camera to Vincent “Did _you_ teach him to say that? _I_ didn’t teach him that.” Vincent just glanced sidelong at the camera, put a finger to his lips and winked mischievously, and present Sebastian cried and touched the screen, missing that man with all his heart).

 

The three of them enjoying shaved ice together that summer day, Vincent and Ciel looking through an aquarium display, Sebastian giving Ciel a ride on his shoulders, Ciel sound asleep on Vincent’s back as they walked through the parking structure to their car with an armload of souvenirs from the gift shop, Ciel tucked into bed with his new stuffed lion...

 

There were so many things they had done together and recorded, and Sebastian had had no idea just how precious they would be — it was supposed to be for when Ciel grew up, and they could look back at how little he’d been...not so that Sebastian could stare at the pictures alone, without Vincent, looking at the child who had never gotten the _chance_ to grow up at all. Past profile pictures had Ciel getting younger and younger, and they even had one on the day of his birth, together with his surrogate mother Rachel Durless. That little crying pink face, Vincent and Sebastian weeping with joy even in their hospital scrubs, caps, and masks, taking turns holding the precious bundle.

 

“Why couldn’t they have taken me with them?” the raven sobbed bitterly, leaning against William and holding his face in his hands. “It’s not fair. It’s not _fair_ ...he was supposed to grow old. _We_ were supposed to grow old.”

 

Outside, he could hear vehicles pulling up onto the dirt leading up to the house. Sebastian lifted his head up, his face red and puffy, and looked at William in agony. “I don’t deserve this, least of all from you,” he whispered. “Being able to see the faces of my family one last time is such a priceless gift, but it’s almost time and I can’t thank you properly. William...before they take me away...may I kiss you?”

 

William couldn’t deny that it would have been better for everyone involved if Sebastian had perished in that fire. But he found himself blinking back tears, swayed by Sebastian’s broken sobbing, and soon he wept too. What a beautiful family...they had such a bright future ahead, that much was clear.   
  
Good thing God was dead, or He would have plenty to answer for.   
  
The sirens tore William from his reverie, but he was slow to acknowledge Sebastian had spoken.

  
“H...huh?” He blinked, like a hummingbird in slow motion, and blushed imperceptibly.   
  
Sebastian had asked if he could kiss William. It wasn’t sex, there was no gratification of that kind involved. It was a sweet, simple kiss, and after seeing his beloved family, the first thing he thought of was kissing William?   
  
Something he’d asked _permission_ to do?   
  
“Oh. Oh, hell,” William mumbled, averting his gaze. “Sure, Sebastian. Of course you can...”  No matter what, he couldn’t ruin this now.   


Tears still a constant stream down his cheeks, Sebastian drew closer to William and cupped his face in his hands. When their lips met, it was with a tender sincerity that Sebastian had never offered his captive before. Chaste and filled with gratitude, he held the kiss for a long moment, his heart breaking further when he knew why he’d fallen so hard for William.   
  
William was like Vincent in so many different ways — his intellectualism, his cunning, his resilience, his impossibly handsome face...perhaps, in another world, they might have even had their own family. In another world where Sebastian hadn’t given in to despair, destroyed himself, and fallen so far from grace, he could have found a new family with William, even one with more children in their future.   
  
But now, after everything...it was too late for that. It was far too late, and Sebastian understood.

 

He broke the kiss and drew away, the last crumbling remnants of his heart falling to dust, his wet lashes leaving tears lingering behind on William’s cheeks.  
William himself was left feeling sort of dazed after being kissed the way Sebastian had just kissed him. He knew what it was like to be kissed by someone who was absolutely in love with you, and this was, without a doubt, such a kiss.

  
His gaze was soft when they parted, his cheeks flushed, as were the other man's. His hands were entwined with Sebastian's, and when the raven spoke next, it was exactly what William had expected him to say. Sebastian Michaelis was in love, after all.   
  
“Were our circumstances different,” Sebastian whispered in a little choke, “do you suppose that you and I could have — ”   
  
_“This is the police! Release the hostage and come out with your hands up!!”_ _  
_ _  
_ He was interrupted by one of the officers on a megaphone, and the two men snapped their heads up at the sound. The law wouldn’t wait anymore; time was up.

William never got a chance to respond. The moment the police called out, that was it. Their time together had come to an end.  
  
"It's over," William said softly. "Take me outside, Sebastian."   
  
Sebastian exhaled quietly in disappointment, but he nodded, reaching up and wiping his eyes free of tears. He sniffled, pulling William back into his arms, and held him close in an embrace, just one last time.   
  
"I'm sorry for everything," he whispered as he carried his treasure to the front door. "I wish you the greatest possible recovery from my selfish whims, William."   
  
Once at the door, Sebastian paused and stared at it for a moment, his gaze becoming dull and empty. He took a very deep breath before announcing his presence to the officers outside:   
  
"I am Sebastian. I'm going to open the door, and I have William in my arms. Don't shoot; I do not wish him injured."

 

There was a beat of silence from the other side, and then the nearest officer acknowledged him, signalling to the others and passing the info along. "Clear, then," he replied. "Once you have surrendered the hostage, put your hands up."

 

"Very well," Sebastian answered. Then, finally, with William held closely in one arm, he unlocked the door and swung it open, giving William fresh air for the first time in weeks, and at long last the taste of freedom.

 

The bright light hurt William’s eyes. He was momentarily blinded, hiding his face behind his broken hands. When he lowered them, he saw a squad of police officers, weapons all trained on Sebastian’s forehead. An unexpected wave of fear overtook the brunet, and a panicked thought crossed his mind — ‘ _I don’t want to leave him!’_

 

But it was irrational, and William physically shook away the thought, but it didn’t stop the sensation of his chest tightening, his stomach dropping, his heart pounding. He felt himself being lowered to the ground, onto the doorstep, and the officers expressed dismay at his poorly condition. Sebastian’s warmth left him, and he heard his captor back away and kneel down with his hands up.

  
“Secure him and arrest the other,” said the squad captain, a tall and voluptuous woman with dark skin and white-lavender hair, and the attending officers immediately did as she instructed them.

  
  
This brought a swift and final end to William’s imprisonment by Sebastian Michaelis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read our work. <3 Reviews make it worthwhile, so please consider if you can.  
> (Don't worry, it's not over yet :D)


	9. Bedside Manner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William finally begins to receive the proper medical treatment he's so badly needed, and experiences a few reunions with familiar faces as he recovers. But will all of them have his best interests in mind?

As soon as the medic team had William in their care, the armed officers went for Sebastian and pinned him to the ground to frisk him. The raven grunted in pain at the rough treatment, but of course he deserved no less — all he could do was cooperate with them as he was handcuffed and read his rights. The right to remain silent, the right to an attorney — he knew it all. He didn't care. He didn't want anything, and he'd go ahead and plea guilty once he was in court. Having a trial at all was laughable, really.  
  
Once his hands had been cuffed behind his back, Sebastian was lurched up to his feet. When he tried to look over his shoulder to look for William, he was pushed along and prevented from doing so. They just wanted him in the squad car, as far from William as possible and as soon as possible. Sebastian was grateful at least to see that the officer who had come to his door the previous day was not present, and that he wouldn’t have to feel his judgmental, victorious sneer.  
  
He could hear William being loaded onto a gurney, already being cared for by the ambulance crew. At least...no matter what happened to Sebastian after this, William would be safe. That would be enough.  
  
The whole drive to the hospital, William didn’t feel all there. The familiar feeling of dissociating took him over, and allowed him to feel calm when everything else felt terrible. He knew at least his health insurance was top notch, so he would receive the best care. Upon his arrival, doctors immediately decided to prioritise his physical health over his mental well-being for now, which meant endless tests, followed by numerous x-rays.  
  
He had his first seizure on the way back from his CAT scan, it just meant that the MRI and EEG tests were all the more vital. Without a doubt, William would need major surgeries for a long time going forward if he wanted to walk again. As for the seizures, the doctors had a fairly optimistic prognosis.  
  
They told him he’d suffered something called an anoxic brain injury, but since he had only been without oxygen for a few minutes, and not unconscious for very long, the damage wasn’t extensive. Since he was only having mild seizures and a bit of memory and focus issues, the hope was that within the next month, his brain would do the majority of its recovery, and a good amount more within the following six months.  
  
Hopefully the seizures would stop, especially with anticonvulsants, but if not, it was a manageable condition to live with.  
  
Following the scans, William’s first surgery — to re-break all the bones in his legs, and reset and reconstruct them — was scheduled for that evening. He had his plentiful health insurance to thank for that.  
  
In the meantime, he received information and treatment from his attending doctor. Incredibly tall and slender, with long white hair and the palest eyes, Dr. Nektulos in his white doctor’s outfit looked like some kind of albino forest god that had somehow wandered in. At his side was a bubbly male nurse with hair as red as saffron and freckles like stars in the night sky.  
  
The sight of these vibrant characters was so incredulous to William that he even let out a breath of laughter. So strange...this had to be some sort of dream, surely.  
  
By 6PM, William was on the surgical table, and being gassed into unconsciousness.  
  
Finally...some good fucking sleep.  
  
The surgery was long and grueling. William was under the knife for several hours, and this was only the first of many that he would have to endure. It was damn fortunate that he got to be unconscious for it all, after everything he'd already gone through; otherwise the pain might have eventually shattered him.  
  
It took most of the night to get through the first surgery, meticulously breaking and resetting every last fracture that had partially healed since the initial car wreck. By the time the dawn broke, William was out of surgery and in his own hospital room to recuperate, his legs cast successfully. It would be a long time before he walked again, but it was a good road to progress.  
  
Once the anesthesia started wearing off, it was still early morning, but visitor hours had opened. The first person to go to William's side was none other than his father, Michael Theodore Spears, and he was there waiting for him like a benevolent sentry. He tenderly held one of William's bandaged and cast hands and ran his thumb back and forth across it, his tired eyes filled with love and relief. It was good to have his son back.  
  
Unsurprisingly, when William awoke, he expected to be back in Sebastian’s damned bedroom, or his hellish storm shelter. The cold, the damp smell of mold, and the extremely modest furnishings. The persistent tang of rust and blood in the air — the difference imperceptible at times. The dark.  
  
Here, it was a completely opposite world. Everything was bright, white, and clean. William was clean, for what felt like the first time since arriving. He couldn’t feel his legs. They were both firmly cast. Pain was nonexistent, and he was warm and dry. The only problem was, he was struggling to believe any of it was real.  
  
Opening his eyes, William felt for his glasses so he could see the man across from him. But he had already recognized the familiar feel of their hands intertwined. He didn’t need to see him to know who it was. Who else would be the first one to be at his side?  
  
“Hello, father,” he greeted, with a weak and bitter smile.  
  
Here he was, face to face with a man who looked just like him, right down to his storm-silver eyes. Although Michael had a good twenty years on William, he appeared deceptively younger than he really was. The most telling difference between the two of them was the presence of crows’ feet at Michael’s soft eyes from years of kind laughter, now permanently embedded in his skin. His hair had more grey than William’s too; thick waves of salt and pepper hair to accentuate his handsome face, and horn-rimmed glasses were a suitable finishing touch.  
  
“William,” came Michael’s soft, gentle voice. The light from the window was darkened as the elder Spears swiftly embraced his son. Normally a reserved man, he simply couldn’t hold back his affection. It had been such a long month, not knowing where William was or if he was even alive, and worrying himself sick for every second of it. Everything about the situation was miraculous, and Michael was just fucking relieved that he hadn’t had to bury his own child.  
  
“My darling William," he whispered,  lovingly stroking William’s knotted hair. "I've got you. You’re safe now, alright? You’re safe.”  
  
He didn't mean to bother William with so much when he'd hardly woken up, but it was too difficult to hold back. There were thousands of things he wanted to say to him, to ask and know what happened. He still hadn't been given many details from the police; only that William had been voluntarily surrendered by a kidnapper. The thought of it made his blood run cold, the ideas of what could have happened…  
  
If he ever met the man who had dared harm William like this, it was not likely to end well.  
  
William bit down on his lip when he was abruptly hugged, and his father’s warmth overtook him. ‘Safe now’? He was afraid to even think it, and to believe he really was being held in the arms of someone who loved him unequivocally.  
  
“Father,” William repeated weakly, his throat seizing up, but he fought back against the reflex and instinct to weep. Not here, not in front of _this_ man. ”I came back. I’m sorry I worried you so terribly. Will you forgive me...?”

 

Michael blinked in surprise, holding William even closer. What had that monster _done_ to him...? Apologizing for going _missing_ ?! It was unthinkable.  
  
"William, light of my life," he whispered, stroking William's hair more urgently and pressing his son's face into his chest, letting him hear his heartbeat. "There's nothing you've done that _needs_ forgiving in the first place. You made it home. You're _safe_ . I — I couldn't ask for more than that...I love you and I'm so damn glad to have you back. Don't apologize...you were _taken_ from me. It wasn't your fault."  
  
How embarrassing, being seen in such a state. William was mortified that his father had to look upon his unruly hair, dark-ringed eyes, hollow cheeks, and his broken body.  
  
“I...I look unsightly...” William mumbled, gaze averted quite firmly, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes like this. “And I caused you stress...you don’t deserve that...”  
  
His voice got muffled the closer he was pulled into Michael’s warm chest, being able to hear and feel his heartbeat, and smell that familiar cologne, all his worries began to melt away. Really, thinking of his father was one of William’s few coping methods during that dire time at Sebastian’s.  
  
"I don't care," Michael insisted, cradling William like he always had since the day of his birth. "None of that matters to me. Seeing you in person and holding you again makes me _much_ happier than having a beautiful photo and not knowing if you're even alive or not. You didn't stress me a bit, love. The person who took you from me did. Having you here in my arms now is the most beautiful you I could ever want."  
  
He rubbed William's back, keeping him close, heart aching. Did William really believe this...? That he was at fault? His throat tightened and nose tickled, eyes burning hot. His poor boy...he'd heal him, no matter what it took.  
  
“I...you can’t...mean that,” William protested. “I’m...” He paused, taking a few shaky breaths to calm himself, but it wasn’t working. Not even with the morphine. The urge to weep was mounting very quickly, and he had to fight harder to keep it at bay. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, as if to force the tears back, if he could.  
  
What a hell he’d gone through. The question was, _had_ he actually survived it? He’d gotten away from Sebastian, and was healing up in hospital. So why did he still feel so broken and afraid? Wasn’t it supposed to be better, now…?  
  
“I-I’m sorry. The truth is, _I don’t even know if I am alive_ .”  
  
When William heard himself say this, his tremulous breaths dissolved into quiet, stifled sobs that he still desperately fought back with glassy eyes. He tried to hide it in Michael’s shirt, but the shivering could not be concealed. “I don’t know if I made it, or if any of this is real. I don’t dare believe it, and I’m _so afraid_ ...I don’t want to wake up and find myself back there again.”  
  
Michael tried to keep himself together too, but seeing William’s façade collapse like a house of cards ruined Michael in turn, and the tears broke through his defenses.  
  
“William, we do not waste our breath on words we don’t mean. You know that. What I say is the truth,” he promised, at which point he too succumbed to tears, his heart positively shattered for his poor son. “I know. I know it must hurt unimaginably,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry...I’m sorry I couldn’t find you...but in the end you made it, and you _are alive_ . It hurts, but you’re safe and I will protect you. I won’t leave your side. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this more real for you. You’re safe and free from whatever hell you escaped from.”  
  
How broken William was, but his father’s embrace was the one, true soothing spirit he knew. With bandaged hands, he pulled the older man as close as he would come.  
  
“{ _Otousama_ }...” he wept, stumbling over his words, trying to find the right way to say what was on his mind, but it was not an easy subject even _without_ being emotionally compromised. “You must know that I did an unforgivable thing. I lost faith. I gave up on you. What happened to me...what he did to me...it was too much. In the end…I was not strong like you would have wanted me to be. In the end, I wanted to be dead.”  
  
These seizures were his own damn fault, for trying to kill himself in that hellish vault he’d been locked in. Then a second time, towards the end, with the shard of raven porcelain. It was a terrifying thought, especially knowing that he might have never hugged his father again. Despite all odds, here he was in his arms, but the terror of _what if_ was powerful.  
  
Michael wanted to hold William even tighter, but he was afraid of injuring William's already tender ribs. Instead, he half-climbed up onto the hospital bed and pulled William into his lap, holding him as close as he possibly could instead, _willing_ his love and comfort into his boy’s soul.  
  
"My darling," he uttered, keeping his arm wrapped securely and tightly around his son, "no one would have blamed you. I know you, and I know it would have taken truly horrific things to push you to that state. Trying to take destiny into your own hands to escape a monster...who would think less of you? I know what a brilliant, dynamic man you are, and I couldn’t be more proud.”  
  
William wasn’t sure how long he’d simply wept, nor could he ever recall crying so hard, even as a child. Certainly, he’d never had something to cry about as much as this. He had a lot of pain to work through, and what better place to do so than with the man who loved him unconditionally? There was a substantial amount of pain to release, so it only made sense that he would be left in tears for such a long time. One way or another, it had to come out, and this was the healthiest and most direct way.  
  
Michael cried, as well — it was all the tears he'd been unable to shed during William's absence, and sharing such a rare emotional display with William somehow helped it feel more cathartic.  
  
"I won't leave you," Michael said to finally break their silence, gently squeezing William's bandaged hand and caressing him with paternal tenderness. His poor son looked absolutely exhausted, and Michael wanted nothing more than to ease that exhaustion.  
  
"In fact, I'll tell you something,” he went on as matter-of-factly as possible through his tears, “...you're going to come live with me. I already have my guest room prepared for an occupant, and you'll have everything you'll need. All the comforts you could want, and we'll be together. I'll take care of you and watch over you. Leaving you alone in your own home is unthinkable...no, you'll come with me."  
  
William hadn’t even begun to consider what it would be like leaving the hospital. He certainly wasn’t going back to his normal life anytime soon, as he would be need help with a considerable amount of things for quite some time. Moreover, he wanted to be with his father, and staying in his home would be the best way to remain close.  
  
“I understand,” he sighed, sniffing quietly and putting a hand to his aching head, now that he was finally calming down. “But that’s a long ways off...I highly doubt I’ll be moving in with you anytime soon.”  
  
Michael gently, gradually helped lay William back down, though he never stopped holding him and stroking his hair. "That may well be," he agreed reluctantly, "but I'll do everything in my power to bring you home as soon as possible. Your emotional wounds will heal much faster outside of this environment, and you need to recuperate from _these_ surgeries before you have any further procedures. There is no place better for that than home."  
  
The elder Spears smiled warmly and met William's eyes, gazing tenderly at him. "And, you know...Niets will be so happy to finally see you again, William. He's been living with me for the time being, and can continue to do so while you heal. Who knows, perhaps he could be registered as an emotional support animal."  
  
Oh, his dog...his dear, sweet little mutt Niets, who must have been just as miserable without his master as his master was without him. William really looked forward to seeing his faithful old dog, to stroke his wiry coat, to feel the animal’s familiar weight and warmth at his feet during the nights. Niets was good, and he’d be healing for William’s weary soul.  
  
"I didn't doubt for a minute that you would think of him," William murmured gratefully to his father, chest tightening as he received such a loving gaze. “Thank you for watching over him.”  
  
All of this made him feel like there was hope. Hope for the future, and hope for recovery.  
  
The rest of the day, William spent napping in bed, recovering from the surgery. It was difficult to imagine having as many metal pins in his body as he did, and it made him feel sort of unreal. Though that wasn’t to say that the trauma helped his dissociation, either.  
  
So many people were coming to the hospital in order to talk to him, but he didn't have the energy to greet them, and had to send them away. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell his story at all, for that matter. He just wanted peace, quiet, and recovery.  
  
There was someone checking in on him every few minutes not long after. William suspected his dear father had informed the doctors of his son's suicide attempts. It was a betrayal of trust, but to a father, that had to be better than a dead son. William couldn't fault him. Michael did what he could to ensure his son’s well-being, and this breach of trust was a sacrifice that had to be made to keep William alive.  
  
That night, the end of visiting hours came as a relief. The lights were dimmed, and the majority of the staff had gone home, leaving just the night watch staff, less doctors, nurses still making the rounds, and the odd janitor mopping a hallway or restocking the bathrooms. And finally, at long last, William was able to rest that night without the aid of anesthesia.  
  
Falling asleep on his own was blissful paradise, and his battered body sank into his surprisingly comfortable hospital mattress. He dreamed, but the images his mind conjured were not pleasant. He wouldn’t remember them when he woke up; just the feeling of unease that they left behind.  
  
The next morning, Michael sympathized with William’s exhaustion, and as a treat for him, went out to get William's very favorite coffee from a particularly adored coffee shop run by an extremely loving same-sex couple they knew. This left William only in the company of his attending nurse (the vivacious redhead, Micah, who William was getting along surprisingly well with, in comparison to the positively glacial Dr. Nektulos) who flitted in and out to check on his vitals.  
  
Not long after Michael departed, though, visiting hours began again, and so did the influx of people who wanted to see him. William turned most of them away again, but they sent their gifts anyway. William’s room quickly began to fill up with flowers, greeting cards, and aluminum helium balloons.  
  
The very first visitor that day who William _did_ allow through was a very familiar face to him, and someone whose presence definitely made a difference in the room. A tall, flamboyant character by the name of Grell Sutcliffe flounced into William's hospital room with an armful of roses that were as red as her waist-length hair. When she saw the state William was in she let out a dramatic wail, but after quickly being shushed by Micah the nurse, she quieted down and instead opted to give William a powerful, spine-crushing hug.  
  
"Oh, _Will_ , I came over the moment I heard you'd been found!" she cried, seizing William's hand and holding it tightly. "Your office couldn't tell me a thing! I've missed our sessions awfully, but they can wait! You must recover first...!"  
  
The hug was shocking enough — and tight enough — that William felt his back crack painfully, and he nearly threw up right then and there. Thankfully, the nausea passed as quickly as it had come, and William choked it back once he was released. He quickly smoothed his hair down and fixed his shirt in embarrassment, exhaling sharply, and then took in a slow, deep breath to let his ribcage expand again after the crushing hug. Grell was...well, she was _something._  
  
As one of William's longest-attending patients, and a stable and recovered borderline thanks to years of William's expert counseling (combined with trial and error of the right medications), Grell was one of the individuals that was especially grateful to have William back. They had known each other long enough and intimately enough that they had developed a friendship beyond that of psychologist and patient, and often visited on informal occasions. It would have been noticeable if Grell had never come.  
  
William got along with Grell, and had worked in tandem with dear Alan Humphries, who was quite knowledgeable in transgender issues, to make sure Grell was getting all the help she needed. Grell was one of his success stories, but she was a bit of a handful — as demonstrated with her impulsive and powerful embrace — so William preferred her in small doses, such as the hour long session periods. She respected him a great deal, and that meant a lot to him, but subsequently, it was all the more painful that she was to see him like this.  
  
“W-who gave you details of my whereabouts?” he wheezed, once he’d had a moment to catch his breath.  
  
Grell held William's hand a little worriedly, like she was afraid of William disappearing into thin air on her. She was gangly and tall, something of a beanpole, so she towered awkwardly over William from his bedside.  
  
"Dr. Humphries told me,” she confessed, pulling up a chair so that she could sit beside him and be at his level. "The clinic was alerted that you’d been found, and Dr. Humphries wanted to see you right away, but he hasn’t been able to visit yet because of his health. When he called me, it was already after visiting hours. I really hated waiting, but I just _had_ to come see you. After everything that happened, I couldn't _bear_ to leave you alone, anyway. What kind of maniac _does_ that kind of thing?!"  
  
“The kind I often deal with in professional settings,” William remarked, adjusting his glasses. It took tremendous energy to even lift his arm. Somehow, even though the morphine made him feel like he was floating on clouds, his body still felt like lead, and dammit, it was _frustrating_ .  
  
“...He’s in jail for the time being. The court didn’t bother with bail, I heard,” he remarked absently. “I’m kind of sick about talking about me, anyway...it was good of you to come...”  
  
He looked up at her, eyes wandering lazily over her strong jaw that had been flawlessly contoured. She wasn’t on hormone replacement therapy yet, so she had become a master of makeup, and especially contouring, to appear more feminine and pass as the woman she was. She even knew how to hide her Adam’s Apple with great efficiency; something she considered a point of pride.  
  
“You’re looking well,” he offered her somewhat reservedly, resting his hands in his lap when he’d at last stopped fidgeting with his appearance. It was a small flicker of his old self at least, for what little help it was, given the broken state he was in.  
  
Grell blushed in surprise, but smiled openly. "Oh! Well, thank you, doctor~" she tittered, covering her mouth with a flawless red manicure. "Actually, um...I've been saving up to get cosmetic surgery done in Seoul. They say the best plastic surgeons are there, you know? Shave a little off here and there... _add_ an, ah...thing or two!" she added, self-consciously crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
"Alan suggested it to help keep my mind off of..."  
  
She trailed off, glancing up and down at William's injuries. "Well, certain things," she finished at last. "I got a job in a beauty supply shop. It's been a couple of weeks, but I think I'm doing well...they don't _seem_ to hate me, at least. Alan thinks I can hold it down this time."

 

“A job, hm? How excellent,” William answered, his heart lifting with pride through his exhaustion. She’d managed to get a job, and through her level of recovery...she was very likely to not only succeed, but thrive. “Just be sure to take care; manage your impulse spending, and if someone upsets you, step out for five minutes. You’re doing very well, but remember your DBT.”  
  
Grell completely beamed for William, her happiness radiant, infectious and lovely, and she hugged him again. "It's thanks to you," she insisted, taking his hand and shaking it gratefully. "I owe you everything, Will. You're wonderful...I can't remember how many doctors I went through before I found you! So if there's ever anything I can do for you, _please_ call for me, darling."  
  
She sighed and broke apart the embrace, but still held onto William's hand, looking over him. "But...more importantly...I'm so sorry to have found you in such a state," she added quietly. "You really must be in quite a lot of pain...it looks positively excruciating. You only had the surgeries the other day, right...? Are you recovering well, dear?"  
  
William stifled a grimace as his mind was brought back to his trauma.  
  
“Ah...as well as could be hoped,” he muttered, with a bitter and averted gaze, “I might even walk again within the next year or so. Morphine keeps things manageable. Keeps the worst thoughts out of my head, too.”  
  
He wondered if he should really be discussing his poor mental health with a patient or not. But, well...Grell understood. She knew that no human being — even _William T. Spears_ — was immune to mental afflictions, to trauma, and so the very least that she could do was be there and support her beloved psychiatrist in his hour of need.  
  
"I remember that from my last stint in the hospital," she murmured, surreptitiously tugging her sleeves onto her hands. "I hope to see you walking soon. And on the plus side, you would look _ever_ so dashing with a cane~" she tittered.  
  
It was then that an attending nurse knocked lightly at William's door and stepped partway into the room. "Dr. Spears, you have two more visitors. Mr. Knox and Ms. Leitner? Shall I let them in?" he asked.  
  
William then performed a rather unusual action, which involved shifting closer to Grell. His hand tightened in hers.  
  
_Knox_? ...Meaning _Ronald_ , surely.  
  
“I-I can tell them you’d rather not!” the nurse stammered, seeing William’s stricken expression.  
  
“No — it’s fine,” William declared quietly, his gaze hardening. ”I’ve been through hell — this doesn’t compare.”  
  
Grell was close enough with William that she also understood immediately what it meant for _Ronald_ to be here right now, and she firmly gripped William's hand in turn, reassuring him in silence. She shifted a little closer, as well, and took half a step forward, ready to shield him if ever needed.  
  
A man and a woman stepped into the room once they were allowed in. The young man was on the shorter side, blond, and filled to the brim with boyish charm. In his arms, he carried a bouquet of white roses, and he peered anxiously over them through a very large pair of black framed glasses. He was followed by a young woman about half a head shorter than himself, with cropped chocolatey brown hair, and dressed in a very business smart sort of outfit — a blazer, sensible pencil skirt, loafers, stockings. Grell disliked her instantly.  
  
The man, Ronald Knox, fumbled with his glasses a little when he saw William, and stepped cautiously to the bedside to greet him.  
  
"Hi," he said softly, smiling nervously. "It's, uh...it's been a while."  
  
There was something of a frosty silence from William and Grell. The poor brunet had been so blindsided by the fact that Ronald had come to see him that he took no notice of the nurse mentioning a woman as well. He’d brought a _woman_.  
  
William adjusted his glasses, his spine stiffening. “Mr. Knox. I...yes it...it has,” he uttered through lightly clenched teeth. His heart had started throbbing. Seeing those boyish good looks, that charm, that shy smile, and the little nose with the freckles he’d kissed so many times — his throat closed up instantly with painful nostalgia. For the second time in as many days, he was forced to swallow back his feelings.  
  
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said very softly, turning his eyes downwards when he couldn’t bear to look anymore.  
  
"I know," Ronald mumbled, his smile weakening and voice filled with shame. "I-I know, but...when I heard what happened, where you were, I just...had to. See if there was anything I could do to help you out, and..." he glanced up over William, trailing and struggling, but then dropped his gaze and finished with a weak little "and stuff."  
  
Grell remained cautious, but said nothing, holding herself back. She'd only intervene if it became absolutely necessary, but as it was, she could feel the tension in William's body. She figured it wouldn't be long before she had to cut in. So far, though, the interaction seemed...fairly harmless.  
  
"I-in any case," Ronald piped up, holding the roses out and crinkling the cellophane wrapping under his hands with his own tension, "I thought these might cheer up your room a little. They smell nice, too, if you wanna hold 'em or anything?"  
  
Grell privately made a little incredulous face. Not only had Grell herself given William a bouquet much nicer than Ronald’s, but...he was an old ex from a traumatic parting, and clearly ignorant to the _meanings_ of the language of flowers. White roses, for purity and innocence? After William had been so defiled? It felt almost like a sly joke.  
  
William didn’t answer once he’d raised his eyes again. Visible tears be damned; he’d loved Ronald with all his heart, wanted to marry him. There was the simple issue of Ronald deciding he wasn’t into men after all, and leaving him for a woman. There was precious little more that one could do to betray him more than that, and William T. Spears did not forget or forgive. He was not about to entertain one single attempted pleasantry with this man. Not after everything else he’d survived.  
  
“Who is this?” he demanded instead, with a bandaged gesture towards Sascha, who seemed immune to the tense atmosphere. “I’d think you’d have a _very_ good reason for bringing a woman here, Ronald,” he added crisply, narrowing his eyes.  
  
“I hope you do not have anything against women~” Sascha joked with a self-important smile. “Interesting. I’m Sascha Leitner — Ronnie’s girlfriend! Since you used to be close, I thought I’d come to pay my respects.”  
  
Ronald stiffened for a second and put a hand on Sascha's shoulder, gently pulling her a couple inches back, trying to shush her without actually doing so. "Will, I meant to come alone, but Sascha was so sweet and insistent about wanting to come pay proper respects to you, like she says. She — she even came up with bringing the roses for you," he offered quickly. "She doesn't mean any harm."  
  
For her part, Grell couldn't read any ill intentions from Ronald, who seemed genuinely uncomfortable and who was looking at William with such hesitation and sadness, but Sascha — something about her was _pushy_ , and _slimy_ , but she had given Grell no real reason for suspicion. It was like Sascha was rubbing her relationship into William’s face, but Grell couldn’t prove that. The redhead just put a hand on her padded hip, the other in William's hand, and watched Sascha like a hawk.  
As for Ronald himself, he was finding it tremendously difficult to look at William for long — much more so than he'd anticipated. His injuries...they were so gut-wrenching to see, and it wasn't only because of the severity. It was because it was _William_ so hurt, and it was awful.  
  
WIlliam frowned. "{She shouldn't be here,}" he muttered in Ronald's home tongue, making a fair and correct assumption that Ronald's German girlfriend, of whom English was a second language, would not have learned Welsh yet. The words hurt as they flowed over his tongue; the countless hours he'd put into learning it for Ronald's sake. Even the familiar lilt of the musical language hurt his heart.  
  
"{Neither should you.}"  
  
Ronald felt a nostalgic ache when he heard, being thrust back to a time where both of them were happy and carefree.  
  
“{I know,}” he murmured, biting his lip. “{But the way I left...I owed it to you. I don’t know, I just needed to come see you, check on you, see if there’s anything I can do for you...}”  
  
“Dr. Spears, I really am honored to meet you,” Sascha cheerfully cut in as she segued back to English and approached the bedside. “I’ve heard many wonderful things about you and I would love to know more. How is your recovery going? You are looking well!”

 

William hesitantly let go of Grell's hand, sitting up a little more in bed to seem a faintly more imposing presence than he was. "...I'm quite well, thank you," he answered stiffly.  "I appreciate you coming to pay your respects, but I'm not really feeling up to — "  
  
"Understandable, understandable," Sascha interrupted, scooching closer and leaning far over toward William until she was practically on top of him. "I'm _very_ curious about your experiences as a captive! I will just ask you a few quick questions...firstly, where in the house did Sebastian keep you?"  
  
William blinked, too taken aback to speak. His mouth fell open slightly at the audacity that this young woman had to ask such violating, intrusive questions without even a trace of bashfulness or hesitation. And yet — and _yet_ — she continued brashly on.  
  
"I hear that police investigated the house a day before you were surrendered!" Sascha was half kneeling on his bed now, eyes wide with feverish lust for knowledge. “Also, is it true you tried to commit suicide as a means of escape? _Erstaunlich_ ! Tell us more, won’t you?”  
  
"Ah, h-how did you —" William started, stumbling over his words as he desperately leaned back away from her, his throat closing up again — _the one I tried to cut_ , he thought with a horrid pit growing in his stomach, "I'm sorry, I — I don't — "  
  
William was seconds away from bursting into tears if this kept up, and Ronald looked absolutely mortified. Grell, on the other hand, was out for blood, and had no reservations about taking action.  
  
“What the _hell_ is the matter with you?!” Grell demanded, pushing Sascha out of William’s way and baring her teeth at her. She rounded on Sascha with all her height, getting even closer to her than Sascha had been to William, and left very little room for backtalk or countering. “What are you saying?! I don’t know what backwater circle of Hell spat you out, but disrespecting a man as good and handsome as William is absolutely unforgivable!”  
  
She glared at Ronald for an explanation, but the blond looked exactly as pale and outraged as they were. His mouth hung open, giving him the appearance of a gaping fish, but no sound came out. He was just...amazed, and horrified. Well, at least _he_ had the grace to be embarrassed, even if his brat of a girlfriend didn’t.  
  
Grell did not let Sascha peer around her, adamantly blocking her view at every turn. It took everything she had to restrain herself and not throttle the other woman...it wouldn’t have been the first time Grell had gotten violent, either. Her long nails were just _itching_ to scratch and claw, but she was holding herself back, at least for now.  
  
Sascha seemed quite immune to their outrage. A reporter usually had to be, since these types of reactions were completely inevitable. Even for a reporter, Sascha was very thick-skinned and would not go down easily.  
  
"Look,” she replied with a haughty little smirk, hunching one shoulder and resting her chin on her knuckles, “a lot more people are going to be asking you things like this _very_ soon. If you give _my_ paper, _Der Spiegelchen,_ the exclusive rights to the story, no one else will bother you again, and you will be so, ‘ _ahhh! Alone at last!_ ’. But William, _Liebling_ , it _does_ mean you'll need to turn over all the juicy details. I'd make your decision _very_ quick. _Tick-tack, tick-tack_ ."  
  
"Ah..." William uttered faintly.  
  
“Y-your _paper_ ?” Ronald finally whispered when he managed to pull himself from his mortified stupor. “W-wait, Sasch, is that...is that _all_ you’re here for? Your... _fucking reporter shit?”_ _  
_ _  
_ “ _You’re_ one to talk,” Grell snarled, putting a hand on William’s shoulder and rubbing it lightly with a painted thumb as she fixed a dark glare onto Ronald. “You didn’t exactly treat Will like a human being either, _Ronald_ .”  
  
Ronald shut up very quickly, red with even greater embarrassment, and he covered his mouth and avoided all of their gazes. Grell huffed in annoyance and turned back to William, tall, intense, and protective, like a mother bear.  
  
“William, you don’t owe this paparazzo _leech_ a single word,” she growled, staying close to him. “Not a one. I’ll chase them out for you.”  
  
William, for his part, was exactly as heartbroken as he appeared while he glanced between Ronald and his girlfriend. Had Ronald brought her here so she could get this story first? Of course. He must have. Of _course_ there had been an ulterior motive. It would only take Ronald, the lowest of the low, to get himself a girlfriend even more loathsome than himself.  
  
Just when he was beginning to think that nothing could possibly make him feel worse, it _did_ . For just one goddamned fool minute, he’d actually started to believe that maybe Ronald did have good intentions for visiting, and he had been thoroughly betrayed by him all over again.  
  
He may have been a broken shell of the man he used to be, but he wouldn’t let them treat him like this. He was William T. Spears, and they would afford him the dignity and respect he _deserved_ .  
  
"Get out. _All_ of you, " he gasped. "P-Please just go." He'd hidden his eyes behind his long fingers, two teardrops falling in succession and slipping through his hands to dampen the blanket. He slowly curled his hands into fists so tight that they trembled all the way up his arms until a firm tremor took him over entirely, and he was struggling to breathe. He could not, and would not, take one second more of this. " _Get out._ "  
  
Grell immediately stood up and began to push the two out, but Ronald yanked his hand out of Grell’s grasp, rounding on Sascha. “Why’d you have to go and upset him, Sasch?” he demanded. “I thought you just wanted to see him and be nice!”  
  
Sascha huffed indignantly and rolled her eyes condescendingly at him. “I’m being perfectly nice. I’m just doing my job.”  
  
“You’re being a jerk,” Ronald hissed, glancing worriedly back at William for some kind of approval, but William absolutely refused to meet his gaze, and Ronald was alone. He groaned in agitation and gritted his teeth before turning back to Sascha, still struggling against Grell. “I wanted to see him and you’re being like _this_ ...!”  
  
Sascha just unconcernedly adjusted something in her jacket pocket, trying to shuffle closer to William again. “And I have the story of the _year_ under my fingertips if you’d just relax — ”  
  
Grell finally grabbed Sascha by the biceps to stop her, and dove for the spot she kept adjusting. Before Sascha could stop her, Grell shoved her back at arms’ length, seized it, and retrieved a cell phone that was currently open in a recording app.  
  
She looked down at it with a burning, quiet fury, her face contorting into a sneer. “Do you have _any_ shame?” she whispered, seething. “You give a bad name to women everywhere, you _parasitic_ little cunt!”  
  
Ronald shuffled closer to see, and his mouth fell open once more when he realized what it was and Sascha’s treachery was confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt. “Un _fucking_ believable,” he uttered, covering his mouth again and looking desperately back at William. “Will, I’m _so sorry_ . I had — no idea — I had no fuckin’ clue — ”  
  
It was at this point Father came to the rescue, arms full of coffee and croissants. It took the perceptive Michael Spears all of five seconds to surmise the situation, then he closed everyone, including himself, out of the room. It was highly unusual to see anger on his face; even a stranger could see what a kind face he had. Now it was cold and bitter, and that was harrowing as hell.  
  
"Ms. Sutcliffe, dear, please have the police called,” he murmured, his voice frigid and calm. “I want a restraining order written up against them. I know I can rely on you to make sure that recording doesn't leave the hospital."  
  
"Now hold on just a minute — !" Sascha began, but Michael had turned on his heel and entered William's room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
“A restrain — Will, no! I had nothing to do with this, I swear!” Ronald cried, trying to fight against the pushing, reaching out for William. As William watched the door close, his last glimpse of Ronald was one of a young man with a heart wrenching expression of terror, loss, and regret.  
  
Ronald immediately went back to the door to try to knock, but Grell seized him immediately by the collar and yanked him back, all while keeping Sascha’s phone out of her reach with her Amazonian height.  
  
“ _Get out_ ,” she snarled as she canceled the recording, and then deleted the whole app for good measure, blissfully deaf to Sascha’s indignant shriek that all of her work was now gone. “How _dare_ you come and harass him like this?!”  
  
“No!” Ronald cried, taking Grell’s arm and hanging onto it to give it an urgent tug. “I had no clue! It was just a visit! I wanted to see him!”  
  
“You mean to tell me that you didn’t suspect at _all_ that your hussy _reporter_ girlfriend might have only been after a hot story?!” Grell snapped at him, entirely devoid of any pity for him. “Ronald ‘dated William to _experiment_ and then ran off when the man fell in love and proposed to you’ Knox, you couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel.”  
  
Ronald flushed and shook his head, still obviously shocked and upset as Grell herded them down the hall and to the elevators. “No idea,” he uttered hoarsely, ignoring the insults and abuse Sascha was spewing to Grell. “I-it’s not like that! I — I’m sorry I hurt him back then. I’m sorry for _her_ . I j-just...thought she was being nice...”  
  
William’s anger...why did that face hurt him as much as it was? Why was it so deep and personal?  
  
"A real winner you've got," Grell scowled, glaring down at poor Ronald. "Hope it was worth the trade-off. _Some people_ would give their right arm for a shot with William. Since you broke his heart instead, if you come near him again, I'll break your kneecaps. And _you_ ," she said to Sascha, who finally piped down as she shoved them both into the elevator and gave Sascha her phone back, “Be lucky I haven't broken yours already."  
  
Ronald let out a little devastated noise of protest, growing misty-eyed as he was cornered in the elevator, but Sascha was largely unconcerned with Grell’s threat. “ _Scheiße_ ...” she mumbled into her knuckles, looking off to the side with a furrowed brow and angry, flushed cheeks. “What will I tell my boss...?! I promised a whole interview and I lost all my other ones! A month’s work, _gone_  just like _that_ —”  
  
Ronald reached his breaking point then, and pushed Sascha away in tears. “You can tell him to gargle my cock and balls, _a-and_ you can find yourself a new boyfriend!” he snapped, stamping his foot on the hollow elevator floor, leaning against the wall and angrily folded his arms. “I can’t _believe_ you! Damnit...! _Fuck_ !!”  
  
“Looks like you might need your _old_ boyfriend, since you’re so obsessed with his feelings,” Sascha snapped in return, viciously jamming her finger repeatedly onto the ground floor button. “Too bad he hates your guts, _fickschnitzel_ ~”  
  
“He’s a _person_ , with _real feelings_ ,” Ronald snapped after her, already shedding tears and trying not to shake. “Which is apparently more than I can say for _you_ !”  
  
She ignored him the rest of the time, thumbs flying as she furiously texting her boss. “By the way,” she added, stepping out of the elevator once she was freed, “I never even came _once_ .”  
  
Then she stalked off, leaving Ronald behind with Grell.  
  
He had no rebuttal for her parting remarks; it was a cheap shot and he was very quickly losing any remaining respect for her or anything she thought. He had gotten his comeuppance; just as he had treated William, so too had Ronald become a means to an end. Used and discarded. He didn’t bother watching her leave, not caring or wanting to, but instead stood there with his jaw set and lips pursed, sniffling in silence as hot tears rolled down his cheeks.  
  
Now more than ever, he missed William, and felt the gravity of what he had given up and lost. Now, it seemed, it was permanent. William was going to file a restraining order. Ronald couldn’t even help pick him back up again, not even as a newly single man.  
  
“He’ll be thrilled, huh?” he uttered bitterly to Grell, who watched him with an unsympathetic eye. “Got what I deserved and everything.”  
  
“ _I_ certainly will,” Grell murmured absently, as she looked up the number for hospital security.  
  
Ronald tightened his arms over his chest, which ached like never before. This had come as too heavy a blow than he ever would have thought. It just... _hurt_ . All he could really surmise was that he’d liked William a lot more than he’d ever realized.  
  
The brunet in question had a minor breakdown of his own after everyone had gone, and he _hated_ for his father to see him be so pathetic, but he simply couldn’t help it. This was just one blow too many. He felt that if it weren’t for the morphine numbing his body, the break in his heart would split him in two.  
  
Micah took pity on him too after hearing what had occurred, and permitted William an additional sedative to calm down. This allowed him to drift off into a dreamless sleep, with Michael watching over him like a guardian angel.  
  
It seemed unbearable now, but nevertheless, William was prepared to endure. He was bedridden, due to the extent of his injuries, especially in regards to his legs, but with his father’s help and the help of Micah, he did not want for anything. Constantly being looked after, supported, loved, encouraged...he had everything he needed to begin the long journey of recovery.  


The same could not be said for Sebastian Michaelis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moral of the story: if you leave him for a woman, William T. Spears will inevitably d e s t r o y your entire soul. Thanks for reading, and stay tuned~!
> 
> P.S. Sorry for doing our boy Sascha this way ;o; we promise we still love him!!!!


	10. One's Own Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian gets a taste of life in a high security prison facility and meets his defense lawyer. CW for graphic violence

He sat alone in a cold, four square-foot prison cell, atop a flimsy little mattress on his wall-mounted bunk. His knees were drawn up to his chest, bare feet lightly crossed, and he hugged his legs. His shoes were set neatly aside on the concrete floor, waiting to be put on whenever he was allowed to leave his cell for showers and meals. He rested his chin atop his knees and gazed out at his tiny cell, looking at the hard water-stained commode on the opposite wall, which was barren of any decoration.    
  
Well, it could actually be considered an upgrade from his previous living arrangements. He hadn’t had any possessions to speak of, and at least in prison, he had a solid roof over his head. It was cold and drafty, but he wasn’t directly exposed to the elements, and he didn’t have a mold problem. He’d get three warm meals a day, too. It really wasn’t missing anything that he could have had at his dilapidated little shack. Here, he even had human contact on occasion.   
  
He could have gone without that. The jeers he would get in the halls...the taunts, the insults...one of the other inmates had even managed to land a punch on Sebastian before security had dragged him back. A few other inmates would shout in approval and threw whatever projectiles they could at him. Between that and the perceived danger Sebastian was to the others, he was kept alone and on guarded watch.   
  
And with the person who shared a wall with him, Ash Landers, a severely deluded evangelical who believed he was an angel sent from God, Sebastian missed William’s intelligent conversation more and more. He missed absolutely everything about William, even to the point that it hurt, but it was better that he be kept away from him and allow his victim to heal, move on, and forget.   
  
Judging by the shadows on the walls, it was late afternoon. Ash would surely begin his 4:30 rant any minute now.   
  
Sebastian wasn’t far off his estimate. As the prisoners assigned to dinner duty began making their rounds, the smell of prison-grade beef stew began to fill the dank halls. It’d be that and a dry bun, along with mushy peas. Dinner workers who had been bribed prior would always sneak a little something extra into the plate of he who had paid them.   
  
Sebastian didn’t have the means for that sort of business, and neither did Ash, so there wasn’t much to look forward to. At least, in Ash’s case, there would always be someone to condemn to Hell.    
  
“Is that a  _ tattoo _ ?!” shrieked his shrill, effeminate voice when his grate opened.   
  
Sebastian winced at the piercing shriek, and glanced over his shoulder with a glare.   
  
_ Here we go again _ .    
  
Since neither of them could see each other, he could only assume Ash was addressing the food worker stationed at their cell block with his cart. This particular inmate was well aware of Ash's habits, as well, and he glanced over in irritation, feeling like he ought to have expected this.    
  
" _ Yes _ ," he replied stonily, not completely sure why he was engaging with this lunatic, and glanced down at his bicep where the tattoo was located. "It is. It's an EKG of my dad's last heartbeat. You have a problem with that?"   
  
His tone was definitely challenging, and Sebastian didn't blame him. It was a tribute to a loved one, and here was BornAgain McGee going at it with full judgment. Had he such a tattoo himself, Sebastian would have defended its meaning just as much as this inmate did.   
  
“Our Heavenly Father  _ forbids  _ such an unholy marking of the skin. You’ve sealed the fate of your  _ soul  _ in that tattoo, and now you’ll burn for eternity with the worst of them,” Ash whispered, dull eyes glinting feverishly as he peered through the window grate. “Oh, yes...”    
  
He promptly backed away from the prisoner, lest he too be defiled. “Yes, it’s off to Hell with you, impure one! Poor lost lamb, you must excise the flesh from your arm and burn it, and  _ repent  _ to the Lord, unless you yearn to be  _ raped  _ by Satan forever.”   
  
Sebastian grimaced a little at the callous crudeness of Ash's proclamations, but did not let himself turn and look to see the inmate's reaction. He would inevitably hear it, after all, before the guards came.  _ If _ they came.    
  
To his surprise, though, the inmate took Ash's portion of food and calmly walked to the cell bars. He said nothing for several long seconds, and each one that passed laid the tension thicker in suffocating layers. Sebastian jumped when all at once, the inmate overturned his hand and dropped Ash's meal so that it spilled onto the filthy concrete outside of the bars. The metal plate crashed to the floor, the ring reverberating horribly in their ears.   
  
"You'd better pray to your god that I never meet you without these bars between us," he whispered, his voice overflowing with venom. " _ Get fucked _ , you slimy piece of shit."   
  
Ash let out a peal of quiet, giddy laughter. "No, it will be  _ you _ who gets fucked, blasphemer! Raped by Satan,  _ raped by Satan _ !"    
  
He continued to howl the unsightly phrase as the inmate hurried away, wordlessly shoving Sebastian's own plate through the grate, and then that was it for the block. He was gone, before he gave in to the urge to insert a shank into Ash's jugular.   
  
Sebastian finally couldn't keep quiet, and he pounded a fist against the wall behind him, which only resulted in a dull little thud. "Did it perhaps ever occur to you that you're putting your life in considerable danger by antagonizing others in a place like this?" he asked stiffly. "People don't exactly like to be told they're going to be raped by Satan for making a tribute to a lost loved one."   
  
"Don't they?" Ash whispered, his voice nearby, indicating he'd returned to the grate. "I think  _ you  _ would love it, Michaelis. Rape, that is. Or perhaps you can't take what you give. No — no, you'd love it, you filthy buggering sodomites are all the same. Desperate for anything to shove in your nasty hole." He made a fake gagging sound and laughed. "Dis _ gusting _ ."   
  
“I suppose we’re all entitled to our opinions,” Sebastian answered dispassionately, glancing aside and wondering how to handle this. It might be worth seeing how deep the rabbit hole went. Maybe if he was lucky, the bastard would give himself a conniption, given that Sebastian was offensive enough.    
  
“There is  _ some  _ degree of truth to that, though,” he decided, turning a little and leaning on the wall. “I  _ do  _ sodomize myself with anything possible. My favorite object and subsequent best resulting orgasm, I’ve never told anyone about. Oh, yes — I’ve never told a soul about the time I fucked myself on a crucifix...when I was a young man, my very devout parents had a statue of the Savior on the cross, and I loved to look at it. A beautiful man, naked and suffering and bleeding — it aroused me. Hanging above it on the wall was an heirloom of ours, a silver crucifix that was about ten inches long, at most. It was exactly the right size, you see...so one day, when I was home alone, I seized my chance and pleasured myself to His image and fucked that silver cross from our home’s altar. I pushed it in and out of myself, imagining the Lord filling me with His cock and His seed. Not one member of my family ever found out, and my parents used to kiss that cross every Sunday, too, never once suspecting where it had been. It was terribly blasphemous of me, wasn’t it? And yet...I would do it again and again, and cry out His name every time, in pure ecstasy I could never attain from worship.”   
  
Ash went silent in abject horror, as he listened to Sebastian whisper such vile things to him. And then he felt the way his loins stirred at the man’s honeyed words, and that was when he started screaming.    
  
“ _ The Devil _ !” he shrieked, loud enough for several blocks to hear. For Sebastian in his echoey cell, it was near deafening. “The Devil is here beside me, Lord, tempting me into depravity!! I will not be swayed! Lay witness to the power of my faith unto you! I say, Devil, begone! Hideous, repulsive, impure monstrosity!”   
  
Ash, practically screaming himself into a fit, went on for another fifteen minutes before someone came along.    
  
“Shut the fuck up, Landers,” hissed a guard, banging his baton on the metal door. “No one cares.”    
  
“The Lord cares,” Ash replied sullenly.   
  
“Any more of that and it’s solitary for you. Not as fun screaming when no one can hear you, huh?”   
  
Ooh, solitary. If he could be rid of Ash’s ramblings, Sebastian would have to somehow one-up his own blaspheming and set him off again. At least then he could have his own episodes in peace. Vincent might have found it a little funny...he had been the type to give Sebastian kisses in public whenever bigots deemed it appropriate to comment on their family. A good troll now and then.   
  
“I wonder what could have bothered him,” Sebastian sighed in a convincingly innocent tone. “He just does this sometimes. Poor soul.”   
  
“You shut up too, Michaelis. Also, you have a visitor.” The guard saw Sebastian’s  eyes dare to light up in hope, before he smiled slyly and added, “it’s just your ponce of a lawyer. Now, get up.”   
  
The light died as quickly as it had been born, and Sebastian lowered his gaze as he got up. It was stupid to have hoped for anyone else, least of all… _ that _ man.    
  
“I see,” he replied, pushing his feet into his shoes and standing by for his cage to open. “Thank you. I’ll see him.”   
  
Once Sebastian had gone through the tedious procedure of being cuffed, he was permitted to leave the cell, and shuffled along to the visiting room.  _ Ponce _ of a lawyer...just who in the hell was assigned to him?   
  
Due to this block being for maximum security, visitors could only communicate to inmates via the classic phone and glass screen method. On Sebastian’s end, he had to enter and be locked into his own booth, of which there were about twelve adjacent to one another. Most prisoners felt like sheep or cattle being confined in little cages like these, but that was the way it was.   
  
Sebastian couldn't help wondering what his lawyer was going to look like; were they going to be a little pencil-necked, comb-over’d, 70s-tweed-suit-donning, personality-void government drone? Most likely. No self-respecting attorney was going to try to defend him if they had a choice in the matter. Sebastian was guilty and was going to plead as such. Having to have a whole trial was going to be ridiculous; William didn't need to go through that. Likely he just wanted it done and over with.   
  
Thinking about William hurt like hell. Sebastian absolutely hated himself, but his heart ached for how much he missed him.  _ He's better off without me _ , he thought bitterly as he pulled his flimsy metal chair out to sit in.  _ He won't miss me _ .   
  
When he finally glanced up to at least offer this lawyer a look of acknowledgement, he froze. Some...fashion model twink hipster was sitting on the other side of the glass sporting poofy and voluminous, lavender hair, a pair of oversized Gucci sunglasses and a purple silken suit, a cup of boba tea in a heavily-ringed hand. What in God's name...?!   
  
Sebastian stared at this man in disbelief for several extremely confusing seconds, maintaining eye contact as he reached for the phone and drew it to his ear.   
  
"Er...pardon me, but I think you might be...somewhat lost," he said flatly once the man on the other side had picked up his own receiver.   
  
The small, effeminate man stared at Sebastian with a faint smile, then removed his sunglasses. “Oh, no, I don’t believe I am, Mr. Michaelis,” he answered in a rich, charismatic voice. “My name is Bravat Sky. I’d like to cordially extend an invitation that I take the place as your defense lawyer, pro bono. You don’t pay a dime until I win your case, love. And I  _ will  _ win it. I always do.”    
  
His pale eyes seemed to crawl over every pore of Sebastian’s skin, drinking in the sight.   
  
Sebastian just stared right back in complete and utter disbelief for a very long and uncomfortable moment. When he finally made a sound, it was a derisive scoff of laughter, and he slowly put his head down, dissolving into uncomfortable, reflexive laughter that he couldn't stop and had to let die on its own.   
  
What in the  _ fuck  _ was going on here? Look at this clown! Was he actually serious? He was an actual, certified, bar-passed lawyer? Was this a prank?   
  
When Sebastian lifted his head up again, he slowly dragged his hand down his face in exhausted disbelief. "That's  _ hilarious _ ," he murmured, bunching his hair up into one hand. "Listen, Malibu Barbie, I've never heard of you. This is ridiculous; are you  _ certain  _ you haven't accidentally wandered in from a fashion show?"   
  
Bravat didn’t dignify Sebastian’s remark with an answer. A smirk crossed his lips and he shook his head. “Let’s examine your options,” he replied amiably, tapping his phone receiver’s earpiece with a manicured, bejeweled finger. Sebastian could hear the taps as little staticy bursts in his ear, and he made somewhat of a covert grimace in annoyance at it while Bravat continued: “You can have the kind of lawyer you were no doubt imagining before I showed up. Someone keen only on the meagre government payouts, whether you are convicted or not, or  _ me _ , a seasoned  _ private _ attorney with  _ great _ skill in freeing or lightening the sentences of his clients. There is your comparison;  _ you  _ decide, starshine.”   
  
"Forgive me if I remain unconvinced," Sebastian replied flatly, putting his weight on one elbow. "I don't know who you are, contrary to all of your self-importance. Why should I trust  _ you _ as opposed to any mindless clod the court assigns me? If you’re as good as you’re making yourself out to be, I hope you have a good case for yourself before you make one for me.”   
  
He glanced bitterly away, turning the corners of his mouth further down and knitting his brow. "I’m not sure why I’m even entertaining this idea,” he made clear with an arrogant shrug. “I’ve already made my confessions. This is a waste of your time. Why shouldn’t I plead guilty? I have no desire for a long and winding trial.”   
  
“What if I told you I can get you out of this  _ despite _ your confessions?” Bravat continued, undaunted, in a little sympathetic coo. He pouted his lips childishly, gazing directly into Sebastian’s eyes. Looking closer, Sebastian realized that the man was wearing purple mascara and shimmery lavender eyeshadow, and it just made him seem all the more bizarre as an attorney. There was so little about him that was lawyerly, and somehow, he was completely certified and even something of a celebrity in the law world.   
  
“I’d tell you that you’re mad as a hatter,” Sebastian replied skeptically, leaning against the wall of his booth. “But I have nothing to lose, so I’ll bite. What’s your great scheme?”   
  
“Funny that you should use that term, for it’s a psychiatric hospital that you need, dear star,” Bravat explained in his musical, lilting voice. “You did terrible things, but you shouldn’t be rotting in a prison for it. You are clearly very ill, Mr. Michaelis. An insanity plea is your answer, and I can make the court believe it.”   
  
This is what finally gave Sebastian pause, and he was motionless for a moment, half-lidded eyes opening all the way. He still frowned and otherwise appeared neutral, but Bravat had finally captured his attention, and wrung the last drop of hope out of him that he didn’t even know he had left. The bold, unwavering confidence of this man...this was not a person who knew the taste of defeat. Something about it was a little infectious, and even Sebastian couldn’t stifle the hopeful intrigue that had risen in his chest.   
  
"A psychiatric hospital...?" he asked with an imperceptibly raised brow. He knew that, logically, it  _ was _ what he needed, and that being locked in a concrete cell block was doing him no favors, but...the idea of being moved  _ anywhere  _ more luxurious than this honestly seemed far too kind. Would it really be alright?   
  
"I don't want him to have to see me again," he confessed, but making his desire firm. "I'm sure he just wants this over with, and dragging this out any longer would be cruel to him. I told him I’d take whatever punishment I’m given."   
  
But then...he was so, so tired of seeing things that weren't there. He was so tired of being alive at all, but death seemed too easy and too insulting to William. Recovery, a  _ real _ chance at recovery, was tempting. Maybe this lawyer wasn't a batshit boy band reject after all. Maybe he really had some substance behind this proposal.   
  
"It couldn't possibly be as simple as an insanity plea," the ever-skeptical raven continued to think aloud. "Even if it  _ was _ a valid argument...what jury would accept that? It's such a cliché,  _ and _ you’re forgetting that I’ve already given a full confession to the police."   
  
“This isn’t the Dark Ages,” came the lavender-haired man’s confident answer as he leaned a little closer to the glass screen between them. “Insanity pleas are my  _ speciality _ , and I haven’t lost a case yet.”    
  
He cocked a neat eyebrow at his potential client and flashed a brilliant smile of perfect white veneers — an ideal candidate for a toothpaste commercial. “You have remorse for the vile acts you committed. Wouldn’t the kindest thing you could do be to recover and do good things in the world? You could make another man very happy — even start another family. There is light in the future...and I can guide you to it, if you will accept me as your defence.”   
  
Sebastian set his teeth and hunched his shoulders a little at this new suggestion put forth.  _ Another  _ family...no...he wasn't sure he could do it again. He was afraid to gain it only to lose it all again. He’d be terrified no matter how happy he was, wouldn’t he? He’d already had everything ripped away from him once, and wasn’t keen for history to repeat itself. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about.   
  
"I have no unrealistic aspirations,” Sebastian informed him with a nonchalant shrug to mask his anxiety. “The best thing I can do for everyone is disappear quietly. But...if that means trying to recover, and disappearing quietly into an asylum...then  _ maybe _ …”   
  
Bravat’s smile grew impishly. “Take my word for it, won’t you? Guys, gals and non-binary pals will all want a piece. You have a bright future ahead...and to see you recover would be the best thing for the lovely Dr. Spears, don’t you think? You owe him at least this much.”   
  
Without a doubt, Bravat Sky knew his way around a conversation. He was used to getting what he wanted with that silver tongue of his, and there was no doubt in his mind that he’d already won Sebastian over. In just minutes, the convict had gone from sullen and apathetic to having a flicker of hope spark to life in his eyes.   
  
“I just wanted to get to meet you face to face today,” he mentioned cheerfully. “I’ll come back in a few days so we can begin planning your defence for the trial on the 3rd, yes?”   
  
"I'd prefer not to be  _ too  _ optimistic," Sebastian replied, holding the phone a little tighter and hardening his gaze. He looked directly into Bravat’s eyes to make his point clear, that he wasn’t moping for no reason. "It hurts less when it doesn't come to fruition. Besides...the less he hears of me, the better. Believe me; he doesn't need to relive what I put him through. William is the most important figure in this situation, so make no mistake about that. I will  _ never  _ hurt him again, do you hear me?"   
  
Sebastian realized quite suddenly that his throat had become tight and his eyes hot, so he quickly cleared his throat and relaxed against the back of his chair, less rigid. "In any case...I suppose I'll accept your offer," he decided, voice steadier now. "Again, I have nothing left to lose. But if you do a single thing to distress him, you’re  _ gone _ . No second chances. I don’t know what you’re really up to, but if it in any way involves bringing harm to William, physical or emotional, the deal is up. So don’t waste my time, Mr. Sky."   
  
Bravat tilted his head, covering a coy smile as he watched this rapist, psychotic torturer become emotional and even  _ protective _ at the thought of the man he’d tortured. The media would have a field day if Dr. Spears and Sebastian Michaelis were reunited in court...! When they saw just how Sebastian was acting, it was going to stir up so much talk! The talk shows he would be on, the book deals Bravat was going to get...that no one else had offered to be his lawyer yet was mind-boggling. He was going to get this fame  _ all to himself _ .   
  
“That’s the way,” he purred. “I am certain this will be very beneficial to the both of this. Don’t you worry your head, my star. This is about  _ you _ . Dr. Spears is of no concern to me, so we’ll have it your way. On my word, he will not be bothered by me or anyone in my firm.”   
  
Sebastian wasn’t so certain, but he didn’t have much of a choice except to hold onto that idea. “We’ll see,” he muttered dourly with a haughty lift of his chin, hardly reassured. “In any case, I suppose I ought to at  _ least _ thank you, so...thank you for coming to see me, and for offering your services.”   
  
“You are a human, despite what others may call you. As such, you are entitled to the same rights as everyone else. You have the right to legal representation, and I am the  _ best  _ you’ve got. See you soon, Sebastian~” Bravat crooned, blowing him a kiss and tossing him a wink, before hanging up the phone.    
  
As he left the complex, Bravat almost felt giddy. The trial of the Devil, Sebastian Michaelis. This was going to be exciting...! And even more importantly, it was going to be  _ profitable. _   
  
At each subsequent meeting, Sebastian remained less enthusiastic than his newfound lawyer. Bravat Sky, the eccentric man in his equally eccentric clothes of violet, indigo and gold, was deadset on playing up Sebastian's mental shortcomings as much as possible to the jury.    
  
Sebastian, however, was weak with depression and the resulting apathy. He just wanted it to be over with and only half-listened and nodded along to whatever Bravat said, though he would snap to attention if he ever heard William’s name mentioned.    
  
As such, reminding Sebastian of how much ‘William would want this’ became Bravat’s best option to keep his damned client focused.    
  
Sebastian met with Bravat maybe once a week, and after that he’d go to the yard for rec time. It was more convenient for the guards to take him then, as opposed to having to cuff and uncuff him a second time in one day.    
  
After the conclusion of his fourth meeting with his lawyer, Sebastian was being escorted to his usual rec. He was only permitted one hour each day in the daylight, and he was always escorted by an armed guard. Today, as usual, he kept his eyes down as he was brought out to the prison yard, to be supervised at every moment. He was dangerous, after all. He had to be kept from the others, and so was only brought to the rec yard when no one else was present.   
  
For his part, Sebastian just wanted a book. Through Bravat, he had been allowed to receive a few of them to keep his mind someone occupied, and his favorite was a collection of Shakespeare's plays. He just wanted to read in peace during the precious little time he was allowed sun, but today was not going to be such a day.   
  
The guard watched Sebastian do his customary aimless wander into courtyard, like usual, casting a glance at the semi-deflated basketball, and then over at the workout gear, with complete disinterest.   
  
“Go on, don’t dawdle,” the guard ordered gruffly. “Don’t waste your time. Go and play.”   
  
Sebastian didn't even offer the basketball a second thought; it wasn't what he was interested in. 'Playtime' was going to be sunshine and his book. With said book tucked under his arm, he went to find a nice, warm sunny corner of the empty courtyard to sit in, to blend in against and be silent.    
  
Unfortunately, he was wearing blaring neon signs to one pair of eyes, and those eyes belonged to a man who had sworn to protect and serve, but was only looking out for his own personal interests.   
  
Fifteen minutes of bliss would pass for Sebastian, reading his curled and dog-eared book. And then came something unusual; in fact, it was the absence of a sound that was most disturbing. The guard was a smoker, coughed every few minutes, and when that sound subsided, poor, paranoid Sebastian instantly became wary.   
  
It was the suspicious absence of sound that tipped him off the most. The moment he realized that it was missing, he looked up like a deer in the headlights. His grasp on his book tightened as his whole body tensed up, but...why? The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were standing up, but he couldn't have given a logical reason for it.   
  
That was, at least, until Sebastian realized that the normal guard was gone, and in his place stood a man taller than Sebastian himself. He had to be 6”3 at least, and Sebastian knew at once that it was the officer who had come to his house that day...! Whom Sebastian had managed to turn away, only to end up calling the police back less than twenty four hours later. What was  _ he  _ doing here?   
  
Indeed, it was the unusually tall Police Constable Claude Faustus.    
  
Sebastian’s gaze was caught by Claude’s expression before anything else, because his eyes did _ not  _ look right.    
  
Those enticing golden orbs held a look that Sebastian only ever saw back home, when he was having a psychotic episode and accidentally caught sight of himself in the nearest reflective surface. These eyes were sick, and maddening, and lacked a single trace of humanity.    
  
And then there was the  _ smile.  _ _  
_ _  
_ Alas, the raven’s brief observation was cut off seconds later, as a heavy baseball bat came barreling towards his face. There wasn’t enough time to dodge far enough, and the bat slammed down into Sebastian’s clavicle, breaking it instantly with a nauseating crunch.   
  
Sebastian reeled with the force of the impact and clutched his broken bone, so shocked and so winded from the blinding pain that he could not even make a sound. He sort of rolled onto his side, trying to remember how in the fuck to breathe, how to think, before he could even attempt to figure out how to get away. Automatically, he started to crawl, now gasping for breath. He abandoned the book, just trying to  _ leave _ .   
  
“Come on, now,” Claude jeered, repeatedly patting the bat’s thickest part into his opposite palm. “You can at least stand up and  _ try  _ to run, Mr. Michaelis. Just...doing it like  _ this _ ...it would be too anticlimactic. Give me some satisfaction and fight back, you remorseless beast.”    
  
He gave Sebastian a sharp smack in the back of the head; not enough to knock him out, but enough to cause a lot of pain. The next blow, instantaneous, came to his balls from behind, and it was much harder.   
  
Sebastian did cry out this time, first from the blow to the head, which half-blinded him, and next from the assault to his testicles. This time, the pain zapped through his entire body like a high voltage shock, but the sharpest point localized in his core, right in his lower stomach, and the throbs that followed were like individual stabs with a white-hot knife.    
  
He promptly threw up onto the tarmac with a wet spatter, his body not knowing how else to react to this level of trauma. He coughed and spit sick from his mouth, weakly wiping his lips onto the back of his hand. Even now, after the impact, it felt like his testicles had been lit ablaze  _ and _ continued to be stabbed, and he crumpled into a weak ball on the ground, clutching himself in tears that he couldn’t hold back.   
  
Jesus, he couldn't  _ move _ . Was he about to die? This fit and strong police officer with a blunt weapon against an emaciated, unarmed, mentally ill convict...that was no even match. Even though Sebastian wouldn't deny that he deserved this, he couldn't make the connection; why did  _ this  _ particular police officer have it in for him?   
  
"W-why — ?" he coughed, voice hoarse as he clung to his injury and scooted further back.   
  
Claude Faustus smiled thinly, the same kind of smile that Sebastian was wont to give before thoroughly throttling poor William. Sebastian recognized it well, and now he was on the receiving end of it. He’d never known how terrifying it was until now, and it made him regret everything even more.  _ William, I’m so sorry _ .   
  
“Will the ‘why’ make you feel any better?” the taller man cooed simperingly in turn. The bat came down again in a series of harsh blows around Sebastian’s head and rib cage. The more blood that spattered the pavement, the more elated his assailant became.    
  
“I suppose you should know...you cost me a promotion I’d worked  _ years  _ for, because you didn’t have the balls to own up to your crimes,” Claude added, kicking Sebastian in the face and causing his nose to gush blood upon the impact.   
  
“You remember I came by, right? Now  _ I’m  _ being actually being  _ punished _ for not ‘discovering’ your secret. Selfish  _ cunt _ .”   
  
Frankly, as someone who always felt like he had nothing else left to lose, Sebastian actually began to laugh when he heard the "why". It was broken and wheezy, and it hurt his equally broken ribs like a  _ bitch _ , but by god, it was worth it. This was the most pathetic motive for revenge he’d ever heard, and yet...for how sad it was, it reflected  _ very  _ well how Sebastian had treated and blamed William. Well, he'd have fun anyway, never mind the hypocrisy of it all.   
  
"S...so you're telling me," he wheezed, glancing over his shoulder and spitting out a mouthful of blood from his nose, "that you're...punishing me...because you're shit at your job? You didn’t even ask to look around…!"    
  
Sebastian spat out more blood, but he smiled tauntingly through it. "I should hope... your coveted promotion went to a  _ competent  _ officer."   
  
Well, that brought a swift end to Claude’s mercy.    
  
“It actually went to a nasty whore  _ bitch _ named Hannah Anafeloz, and now we have that sort of incompetence serving as a fucking police  _ sergeant _ . I’m  _ glad _ I have the opportunity to make you regret your stupidity,” the dirty cop answered, pushing a lock of deep black, almost violet hair out of his pale, golden eyes while he took a moment to catch his breath.   
  
Sebastian painstakingly propped himself up onto the arm that wasn’t broken, watching and listening to this man who was clearly unsuited for any position of authority spew his blatant sexism and misogyny. Maybe, just maybe, he could stall just long enough for someone to happen upon the scene and get this man in prison where he clearly belonged. Solitary, next to Ash Landers, would be preferable.   
  
“I remember...Constable Anafeloz,” he murmured, wincing when he attempted to move his broken arm, and forced himself to let it hang limply at his side. “They put me in her squad car. She was...she was extraordinarily kind to me...considering what I did.”   
  
A wave of pain in the back of his head washed over him, along with nausea, but he gagged without anything coming out. He just spit again, blood spilling into his lap, and continued. “Graceful and lovely...isn’t she?” he asked, leaning back against his wall. “She told me...mnn...I’d done the right thing...by turning myself in, surrendering, cooperating. William would be safe. I’d get...a lighter sentence...voluntary relinquishment...and such. If she became a sergeant, I’d say she certainly deserved i —”   
  
Sebastian was immediately struck down with the toe of Claude’s boot flying across his cheek, and he went sprawling, unable to get back up this time. The raven’s handsome face was already swelling with bruises, and one eye was half swollen shut. He was not going to be so handsome after this, but it was the least of his concerns at this point.   
  
“ _ Ha _ ,” Claude shot back with a deranged grin, demonic eyes glinting. “Of course you’d be stupid enough to fall for that horse-faced slut. But I’m glad it went this way — for you to apologise would have been too boring. You’ll beg and plead before we’re done, and then she’s next. She needs to be put in her place.”   
  
Mercy was dead. Now there was only suffering. The bat swung harder and harder, aiming at Sebastian’s most sensitive spots.   
  
Sebastian just sort of let them come at this point. It was, again, deserved, and he'd had his fun, and no one would be coming to his rescue. Everyone in this prison knew what he had done, and not a single one of them had an ounce of pity for him. He didn't think he had it in him to plead for mercy anyway, especially where there would be none to be found.    
  
He wasn't even sure how long this went on. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes total, but by the time he was done, he had dealt the finishing blow directly into Sebastian's abdomen, which he'd managed to shield until then with his arms and legs.    
  
In that moment, he felt the solid wooden bat crush into his organs, forcing him to vomit again, and this time, it was dark red with blood. And this time, he was so shocked and so winded by such a powerful blow to his guts that he went completely limp. All at once, his khaki jumpsuit pants grew warm, dark and wet with blood-tinged piss, followed by something else… something  _ worse _ .    
  
_ Oh, god… _ _  
_ _  
_ Sebastian opened his mouth to gasp in mortification, but had no breath and no voice. Having never been so mortified in his entire life, his whole body flushed with embarrassment, and there was  _ nothing _ he could do to stop what was happening. His lone solace was that he would be dead soon, and wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.   
  
Claude actually paused at this, half in revulsion, half in delight.    
  
“Oh, you’re a real treat,” he snickered, stepping on Sebastian’s neck with his boot. “Should I take a photo of you, and send it to Dr. Spears? The man whose life you ruined will be glad to see you suffer.” He pressed harder, until he was sure he could hear Sebastian’s neck vertebrae creaking.   
  
“As would your dead husband and son,” he went on maliciously. “ _ Everyone _ wants to see you dead. Nobody wants you,  _ Hosenscheißer _ , so why don’t you just die?”   
  
Sebastian was ready to die for a dozen reasons at this point, but he absolutely, positively  _ refused  _ to let this pig talk about his dead family. He couldn't move much, but he reached up and dug his nails as hard as he could into the flesh of Claude's leg, snarling with seething hatred for the man. His body was bleeding and broken, but he still fought for the honor of those he loved.    
  
"Shut the  _ fuck _ up," he hissed, snarling and baring his bloodstained teeth, even as he felt the pressure on his neck increase. "Don't you dare...talk about  _ them _ . How dare you...!!"   
  
This only drew laughter from Claude, who was unfazed. "If only I had more time with you," he sighed. "I'd be sure to break you down into the absolute worm that you are. That last little bit of hubris. Do you think you have  _ any  _ right to defend your family?" he mused, rolling the heel of his boot over Sebastian's neck. "Don't you have any sense of shame? Really..."   
  
" _ They did nothing to you, _ " the haggard convict snarled, clawing as hard as he could, drawing blood from Claude's skin. "Degrade me all you want, but don't...don’t you  _ dare  _ act like...you know what they’d want! I wouldn't  _ be  _ here if they hadn't died...you inhuman garbage...!!"   
  
A bitter and horrified sob left Sebastian at this, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the tears came fast. Here he lay, broken, bloodied, and soiled, with absolutely nothing left to live for, but he still fought to even preserve the memory of his dead loved ones. It wasn't fair...they'd done nothing to deserve this. Ciel was only a little boy, and Vincent...the most loving father, philanthropist, humanitarian. They didn't deserve this! Sebastian wished desperately that he could just hurry up and die so he could have some chance of seeing Vincent again.    
  
Ah, but...after everything...would Vincent  _ want  _ to see him? Maybe they really weren't hallucinations, but true apparitions expressing real disappointment over him. Well, then, in that case...Sebastian just wanted to hurry up and rot alone in some corner of Hell than endure another moment of this.   
  
"I'm sorry, do you think they would love and respect the vile creature you've become?" the officer asked mockingly. " _ Fool _ . Maybe the perfect thing to do  _ would  _ be just break your neck. Make you live out the rest of your miserable life as a quadriplegic. You know, I knew one once. Poor way to live, but you deserve it...don't you think?"   
  
Sebastian wanted nothing more than to crush this man's skull with his bare hands. The reality of it was, though, that he had more broken bones than he'd ever had in his life, and he was lying in a puddle of numerous bodily fluids. His neck was being broken and there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do about it. His cracked and splintered bones screamed in pain, as did his battered organs, both external and internal.    
  
"Yes, I deserve it," Sebastian hissed through another mouthful of blood, followed by a tooth. "But...don’t flatter yourself. It has  _ nothing _ to do with you. You're still...a shit cop...and this proves it. You can't change that. Perhaps I can die easy...knowing you won't have a job after this."   
  
Claude tilted his head, licking up a small amount of Sebastian’s blood that had splattered onto his own face.    
  
“Ah, Mr. Michaelis...who said I gave a  _ fuck _ about what happens after this _?” _   
  
What followed next was five minutes of hell for Sebastian, and it was surprising how much someone could do with a wooden bat in that amount of time. He left Sebastian little more than pulp with a heartbeat, and paused by the bubblers to wash the DNA free of the bat before strolling back into the prison in peculiarly heeled boots. Their clicks against the concrete reverberated behind him as he and they faded away to freedom.   
  
Sebastian wasn't conscious by the time Claude was finished with him. He was left alone in the yard for an unknown amount of time before he was "discovered". When Sebastian's guard resumed his position, he took his time calling paramedics to the scene, and feigned ignorance to what had happened. He’d received an urgent call, he said. He  _ had  _ to attend to it, he said. He didn’t know what happened, he said.   
  
Sebastian had no recollection whatsoever of EMTs painstakingly transferring his limp and mangled body onto a stretcher, or of the sirens from the ambulance as they sped to the nearest emergency room. He remembered only faces covered in masks bending over him within the ambulance, and hearing himself mumble faintly to them, voice breathless.   
  
“Hey, man, the less you talk, the more energy you’re gonna save, okay?” one of the EMTs tried to shush him as he was cleaning Sebastian’s wounds. “Try not to talk, and breathe slowly into the mask.”   
  
Sebastian shook his head faintly, and it sent throbbing, stabbing pain throughout his whole body. “She’s next,” he breathed faintly, even as he faded in and out of consciousness. “He’ll get her next. Tell her...”   
  
“Wait,  _ who’s  _ next?” one of the other responders asked.   
  
“Dave, he’s barely conscious; don’t make him talk...”   
  
“He’ll get...he’ll get  _ her _ ,” Sebastian whispered in a raspy, strained wheeze. “Hannah...Anafeloz. Warn her...”   
  
He was only vaguely aware of the EMTs talking amongst themselves — about what, he had no idea — when all he could do was repeat himself brokenly until he finally slipped out of consciousness again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was cheerful :D We really had a lot of fun writing the Claude and Bravat scenes; they're very interesting characters to write!! Stick around until next time and see what we've got in store for you!! <33


	11. Trigger Unhappy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being beaten within an inch of his life, Sebastian is rushed to the hospital. It seems to be inconvenient timing for all.

_Just one step more. Just one step more._

 

This mantra had been drilled into William Spears’ brain by his physical therapist, his nurses, and his father.

 

It was tempting to snap at them — didn’t they know how hard it was to drag his two crippled legs along...? And sometimes he couldn’t help but get frustrated. He was hot and bothered and hurting, and it felt like they asked the impossible.

 

‘ _If you felt it, you’d understand_!’ he’d shout, often near tears. But he was never pushed beyond his own capabilities, and his father was always there for encouragement.

  
The hospital staff couldn’t help but adore the loving father-son relationship that the two men shared. It was a little unusual, given William’s age and standoffish nature, but he wouldn’t have had it any differently. It was only his few treasured ones that he could rely on for support, his father the dearest of them all.

 

"William, dear, you're doing such an excellent job," Dr. Angelina Durless coaxed William at each step, measuring his progress with a trained eye. "Truly fantastic. Your gait has already improved so much since we started; the treatment has done _wonders_ for you!"

 

Michael beamed at this news, watching Dr. Durless guide William through the physiotherapy equipment, wanting to get up and hug him with all his strength, but he didn't need telling why that would be a tremendously awful idea. Instead, he watched with all the pride in the world, silently cheering him on.

 

"Well, Dr. Spears...you just took your last needed step for the day," Angelina proclaimed with a triumphant smile as she flipped through William’s charts. "I think I would call this wildly successful, wouldn't you? Look at this progress!"

 

Every inch of William’s body was shaking, and he was covered in sweat. “I barely got a step further than last time,” he groaned; glancing up to his father in protest. “I want to try walking back this time, using the elbow crutches.”

 

"Every step further is a cause for celebration," Michael insisted with an encouraging nod and smile. "Celebrate every milestone, son.”

 

"If you feel you have the strength to use the crutches, go right ahead," the scarlet woman added, equally encouraging. "Don't push yourself; just go as far as you feel able. I'd love to see how you'll do on the elbow crutches."

 

“If I celebrate every milestone, even the trivial ones, it will hardly feel special,” William griped, leaning on his father for a moment to receive the crutches.  
  
It took a moment, because Dr. Durless, or ‘Madam Red’ as Micah creatively referred to her, was clearly quite smitten with Michael T. Spears, and always hovered around him with a hopeful look in her eyes.

  
William admittedly felt a small measure of exasperation. Of course his father was a handsome silver fox, not to mention kind-hearted, smart, and wealthy, and Dr. Durless was very professional regardless...but this was hardly the time or the place...! Micah had informed him after their first session that Madam Red just couldn’t resist any good-looking man, especially one who looked rich.

Come to think of it, perhaps she even enjoyed having her hands on William’s body a little more than was strictly necessary, but not in any way that made him feel accosted. It didn’t matter — the only thing that mattered was getting better, and getting out of here.

 

Michael immediately took a handkerchief and dabbed at William's forehead and temples with it, completely oblivious to Dr. Durless's intrusion upon his or William’s personal space, or her coquettish gaze. William was all that mattered.

 

"It will all feel worth it once you're home," he promised him, rubbing his son's back. "We'll have a nice celebration then, just the two of us. Nice and quiet, just how you like it."

 

Nice and quiet sounded damn fine to him. Hospitals were noisy, uncomfortable places, almost as if to encourage William's speedy recovery to get home. He'd get proper rest there, and more importantly, he’d be away from all this sickness and disease.

 

William gave a stern and swift nod, holding the grips on the crutches and pushing himself forward.  
  
His legs were weak and atrophied. They felt like cement, and walking was like dragging boulders behind him. Not even two steps in and he’d broken out in a fresh sweat, too. William found it highly embarrassing to wear sweaty clothes, and now his hospital gown had damp patches under his arms, down his chest and along his back.

 

Still, without a doubt, no matter what indignities he suffered through, he’d go to any length to receive the benefits of his therapy.

 

Michael watched on in quiet appreciation at the sheer effort that William put into his recovery and physical therapy. This was leaps and bounds from the beginning of his therapy, where attempting to lift a leg brought excruciating pain. Now he was taking steps. _Steps_. He'd be walking by cane alone within the year, and that in itself was the largest motivator to stick faithfully to the regimen. Anything to get rid of these damned crutches.

 

Within a few painstaking minutes, William had staggered as far as the main hallway of the ground floor, and now he had maybe another ten feet to go before he made it to the elevators. Dr. Durless had more appointments to attend to, so it left just Micah and Michael to oversee William’s progress and wellbeing.

 

“Tell me when it gets too much, won’t ye?” chirped the optimistic Irishman with a sunny grin, matching William’s pace in an incredibly slow stride. William paused for just a minute to catch his breath, glaring daggers at the ever-cheerful young man.

 

“I’m...bloody... _brilliant_ ,” he panted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

"You _are_ bloody brilliant," Micah peeped right back without missing a beat, and Michael just nodded approvingly with a beaming smile to match.

 

While William caught his breath, the activity there in that hallway suddenly became much more animated. A few doctors and nurses in scrubs rushed past them toward the front entrance, disappearing through the swinging double doors in a frenzy. Michael looked up quizzically at the disturbance as they gradually opened and closed less and less.

 

Perhaps there was an emergency…?

 

Before the thought could even be completed, before the doors had completely lost their momentum, they burst open again, and this time the medical team pushed a gurney along with them. On the gurney lay a man who resembled little more than a mass of bloody red pulp wearing an oxygen mask and a beige prison jumper. His skeleton was positively mangled, he was soiled from head to toe, and practically unrecognisable.

 

This was the moment that Sebastian Michaelis opened his eyes again.

 

One moment he'd been beaten half to death in the prison yard, and the next, he was staring up at bright fluorescent lights, and then, haloed by those lights, was William Spears.

 

Sebastian blinked slowly, wondering if he'd died, and he was really seeing an angel. But then...no...a hospital gown...why would an angel wear a hospital gown? Why would he even be seeing an _angel_ ? Hell was the only place _he_ was going.

 

This...this couldn’t be _real_ , could it…?

 

Naturally, William did not share Sebastian’s delight.

 

In fact, for the few seconds he’d made direct eye contact with the man who had destroyed his life and livelihood, he didn’t properly register that it was actually him. But the scars on his face...William had carved them himself. They could not be forgotten.

 

Sebastian Michaelis had escaped prison and come after him to finish what he’d started — had come to take him back, and cut off his limbs, carve out his eyes, make him regret his mistakes for all eternity. William unwillingly remembered each time he’d tried to kill this man, and the many punishments he’d endured, and an abyssal sense of dread swallowed him from head to toe.  
  
What followed immediately after was an odd numb feeling in his legs, which could no longer support him. The worse one gave out first, and William dropped onto his backside in a stunned heap.

 

"William!" Michael cried in alarm, sinking down onto creaky knees and taking hold of him. "Oh, darling, what happened? Are you alright...?"  
  
Because Sebastian had been whisked away so quickly, Michael hadn’t gotten a good look at his face. Instead, he wondered if William had just been psychologically triggered by the sight of a man who was so severely injured.

 

For Sebastian, the euphoria did not last long. He saw the horror on William's face, and it came crashing back _why_ . After that, all he could feel was guilt. William was never supposed to see him again. Sebastian was supposed to have died. No, no, no...this was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to have been there. What was happening...?  
  
_William, I didn’t mean to...! William, I’m so sorry!_  
  
But he was gone seconds later, torn away once more. The brunet was almost unresponsive, his mind a whirlwind of trauma and irrational fear. He froze where he was, hardly able to breathe, gazing blankly out into nothingness.

 

“U-uh...h-h-he...hh…ghh…” he stammered incoherently, icy cold to the touch and green-tinged with trauma-induced nausea. No, breathing really wasn’t going to be a thing, it seemed, and he wrapped his arms around himself as he struggled to take in oxygen in short, ragged gasps. The lack of proper air intake made his hands become number and number, and the joints locked in place. He absolutely could not move them.

 

_Why is this happening? Why now…?_

  
He was trembling so badly that it almost looked like one of his seizures, his head kept swimming, turning numb and fuzzy just like the rest of his body, and waves of nausea began to break over him.

 

“Aw, Will...oh, you poor luv,” Micah cooed sympathetically, kneeling beside him and gently patting his arm. “You got a real fright there, huh? No shame in that— anyone would freak out seeing that kinda thing. Let’s just get you tucked back in bed all nice, okay? Ahh — Michael — help me get him up, will you?” he asked of the bewildered father.

 

Michael glanced back at the vanishing hospital gurney one last time before assisting the nurse.  "I can't believe they brought such a gruesome sight through the main halls like that,” he said furiously.

 

“It’s _appalling —_ imagine how distressing that could be to a patient.”

  
Despite his nonchalance, Michael was very much frightened — even mortified. His son had gone white as a sheet, and Michael couldn’t even move the man’s arms out of the position they were in to help him stand. William was paralysed.

  
Micah gestured furiously to another nurse across the hall, who was just doing their rounds, and in moments they hurried over with a folded wheelchair in their arms.

 

“{I-it’s him},” William uttered suddenly as the nurses helped him up into the wheelchair. He was shaking like a leaf now, struggling to draw any breath at all. His chest had constricted, closing around his lungs, and making it physically difficult to breathe in. Dimly, he wondered if he was really dying. The longer this went on, the less air he got in, and the more of his body went numb, including his lips, slurring his words until they sounded like a drunkard’s.

 

“{Hhhhe’ss here...to hhhurt m-me...}”

 

_Damnit… Why can’t I speak? I need to warn Father...he needs to know…!_

 

“{H-hhhe’s... _here_...!}”

 

Michael was blank for just a moment, holding William's hands in his own, when the anxiety in William's expression afforded Michael the clarity he needed.

 

"{You don't mean...that person was…?!}” he whispered in hushed disbelief.

  
William opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t seem to be able to get out anything coherent anymore. Even worse, his nausea was reaching a critical point. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, now feeling like he was _drowning_ in the hot sickness within him, and the excess of saliva gathering in his mouth that he knew meant he was going to be ill.  
  
_Not this...please, not this..._  
  
The odds of that person being Sebastian Michaelis were infinitesimal...but Michael had _never_ seen this kind of reaction in William before. Even if he was wrong, and it was not the monster that had tortured his son, getting William away from here was paramount. That much was clear.  


"{You are not in any danger, William,}" he said firmly. "{Pull yourself together, and let me take care of this. By the heavens, the security in this establishment is _not_ going to hear the end of this…!}"

 

Choking back bile, William shook his head weakly as Michael clutched his hands, and he pitifully tried to turn away.

 

“...{N-nnoo...papa…}” he choked out, closing his eyes tightly as the final and most powerful wave of nausea rolled over him, past the point of being able to hold it back. Then and there, he was violently ill onto the vinyl composition tile of the hospital floor, coughing and sputtering when he could at least stop retching for the time being.  
  
“ _William_ …?!” Michael cried in distress, instinctively jerking back out of the splash zone. “W-what’s wrong with him?!” he demanded of the Irish nurse, who merely tutted in displeasure and quickly ordered the other nurse to fetch a mop, bucket, sick basin, and clean hospital gown.

 

“Christ in Heaven, Michael, it’s a panic attack. This is normal,” he snipped. When the necessary items brought, a janitor came with them to clean up the mess, and when Micah turned to William, it was with a much more sympathetic tone.

  
“ _Aah_ , h-hey, it’s alright...you’re alright. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything. Can you hold onto this for me?” he asked, passing the basin to the trembling brunet.

 

He turn carefully wheeled William back so that the janitor could mop up the unsanitary mess.  
  
Michael felt so helpless at that moment, not understanding what William was going through and not knowing how to help him. He had to rely on someone else to take care of his son. There was also a certain measure of guilt; he couldn’t help feeling both mortified and disgusted at the accident, and it only fuelled his anger at what had been done to his son. _Nobody_ had the right to make William feel this way.  
  
So perhaps it was just as well that poor William had been sick; Michael needed to step away. What he _could do_ for William was verify if Sebastian really was here and take immediate action to keep him away. He honestly didn’t even know how well he’d be able to control his own anger if it was actually him — it was downright _outrageous_ that this happened, exposing William to this, and someone was going to pay for it.  


If they were lucky, it would only be an unfortunate lookalike, and William would be safe. But if not, Michael had half a mind to sue the hospital for emotional damages. He was not going to unsee William’s panic attack, which was to say nothing of how it had to feel for William himself.

On top of everything else he had dealt with and felt this afternoon, William felt guilty. Not just for inconveniencing everyone and worrying his father, but he felt _guilty_ toward Sebastian — why had this happened? He didn’t understand. Hadn’t they parted amiably? Hadn’t Sebastian willingly given him up and refused to open the door to the police until he was certain there was no risk that William would be hurt, even accidentally? Hadn’t Sebastian...become softer in the end? So why, then, had William panicked as he had at the mere sight of him?  
  
It didn’t make sense. _What’s wrong with me?_ he wondered. _Sebastian, I… I’m so sorry!_  
  
William had been left in his room, with the lights off. Cleaned up and dressed in a fresh hospital gown, he was tucked into the tight sheets of his hospital bed, and gazing at the dim, rainy world outside the window. How often he’d stared out so bleakly, while he was Sebastian’s captive, hoping the rain would bring him peace like it used to...but maybe now he could be at ease with it once more.  
  
He was now warm, cozy and dry in contrast to the weather outside, and he could hear his father’s voice, muffled through the door. Michael was angry, demanding answers, and giving orders in that handsome authoritative tone that William too had inherited, and no one would dare to disobey. 

William let a soft sigh escape his lips and closed his eyes. His father would always keep him safe.  
  
  
  
It was a migraine and a half for Michael to discern the truth. Whether the man was Sebastian or not, the patient had rights of confidentiality, and the staff on duty may not have even been legally permitted to say who was under their care, especially if there was a high profile person of interest. But after dozens of phone calls between higher-up hospital staff and Michael's own lawyers, his toiling finally yielded the information he needed.  
  
Michael was not happy to deliver this news to William when he finally returned to the room, where William had long been resting. The exhausted father sank down into the armchair beside the bed, and immediately took one of William's hands into his own, holding it contemplatively.

He let out a long sigh of exhaustion, not knowing how to tell his son that his abuser was in the hospital, and at the moment, they couldn't do anything about it. All he could do was remember the state in which he’d been brought in — a bloody pulp that could barely breathe. That was _everything_ that the vile man deserved, and Michael couldn’t say that he felt so much as an ounce of pity for him. He reveled in vicious satisfaction that Sebastian had gotten some comeuppance after all, and could have shaken the hand of the person who had done it for him, whoever they were.

  
But he couldn’t focus on any of that right now, no matter how much he wanted to celebrate what would hopefully kill the bastard, or at least cripple and deform him. William needed the truth, and he needed it delivered calmly.

 

"He's here," Michael said at last. "Sebastian Michaelis. It seems he was attacked in the prison, and has sustained severe injuries. This was the closest hospital to the penitentiary, which is unfortunately why they brought him here.” His voice, hoarse from shouting, had taken on an acidic tone. “He is safely restrained, and once he's out of the ICU, they’ll take him to a different hospital until he’s recovered enough to return to the prison. You won't have to see him again."

 

But he paused and looked up into William's eyes with fierce, burning determination that overshadowed his exhaustion. "I will do everything to protect you, William," he promised. "That man will _never_ lay a finger or set eyes upon you again."

 

William was slow to respond, even as he looked up into his father’s steadfast gaze.

 

“What happened was deeply regrettable,” he said finally, and the scarlet flush on his cheeks spoke to the truth of it. “I am ashamed. Behaving in such an inappropriate manner...I don’t know what happened.” He tentatively squeezed the hand holding his own, and looked away. “I apologise, father.”

 

Michael sighed quietly and gently stroked William's hair. He’d had time to consider William’s behaviour...and his own. "William...we've spoken about this," he said softly, resting his hand on a bandaged shoulder. "You did nothing wrong. Anyone would react the same way when faced with their abuser, especially so soon and so suddenly. What your body does in reaction to external trauma...that is beyond your control...and he is the only one to blame for it."

 

Seeing Sebastian had made everything about that hell feel fresh and raw once again. The way Sebastian had shamed him for vulnerability and giving in to fear felt especially poignant right now. But god, how vulnerable Sebastian had looked, when he was rushed in...such a _hypocrite_ , but now he could never shame William again.

 

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” William dismissed the older male as he roused from his thoughts. “Let us not trade anymore useless words. Something has to be done, father. I will need you to put me in touch with my lawyer immediately.”

 

Michael blinked slowly, watching William with an eye of concern. "Oh, William — you needn't worry about that," he replied. “I've already spoken to several of mine; I'm taking care of everything."

 

William gave an inquiring look. “Oh — no, it’s — it’s not about him being here. Sebastian has been brutally assaulted in that prison. You must understand that they are clearly too incompetent to keep him safe, and I may be...the only one who can do anything for him.”

 

Michael’s look of unease was as clear as day, but William continued.

 

“Sebastian is a severely mentally ill man. I swore I’d see him get the help he needs, and what he needs is to be in a secure psychiatric ward. I thought I could put my faith in the judicial system to look after him until the transfer was cleared, but apparently they’re all as daft as they look.”

 

The intensive physio session, followed by such a violent panic attack, had started to take its toll on William. His healing legs were starting to throb, bringing back that familiar, dreadful feeling of nausea. He reached for the basin he’d been given earlier, just in case, and took a decent draft of water.

 

“I wanted to stay out of it. I _do_ never wish to see him again,” he said quietly, eyes averted. “But I am a doctor first and foremost...so I need to pull some strings, and move that transfer forward.”

 

Sebastian needing any special treatment was the last thing Michael wanted to hear, and the last person he expected to hear such a thing from was William. He was speechless for a moment, mouth open, and regarded his son with shock and curiosity. William _was_ a doctor, but Michael wondered if perhaps he was being too forgiving.

 

"I see," the elder Spears finally uttered when he found his voice again. "How remarkable. I will get you in contact with your lawyer, but...I'm afraid I must ask: are you certain this is the right thing to do? After everything he did to you...don't you think that he's gotten what he deserves?"

 

The question made William’s heart ache. _Yes_ , he wanted to scream. _Of course he deserves it, the monster...!_

 

Instead, he shook his head, moving into a sitting position. “Emotions...have no place on the job. Preach all you want about how healthy it might be to cry all day about what was done to me, but I won’t let emotions interfere with my work ethic. An ailing patient needs care, and he was my patient, and I failed him. Besides… on a more personal note… I don’t believe he should get out of being alive so easily.”

 

Michael seemed to find that last comment a little more understandable. Yes, how indeed could Sebastian Michaelis suffer, if he was not alive?

 

“So, father — a phone, if you will,” William curtly requested, followed by a slow blink. “...N-no. Wait. Ughhnn...!” he groaned, covering his mouth with one hand as nausea swelled within him and bile rose with it, and hunched over the basin.

 

Michael’s vicious thoughts were interrupted by this turn of events, and a hot flush of alarm washed over his whole body.  "O-oh, darling, take care of this first," he urged, resting a hand on William’s back. "Has the pain come back? Shall I call a nurse to adjust your morphine?"

 

“N...no, I might…be okay, actually,” William decided thickly and breathlessly, rubbing his forehead as the wave of nausea slowly ebbed away. “I...just...overdid it today.” He said this as if it had not been the most severe panic attack of his life that had triggered the nausea, just eager to get the panic out of everyone’s minds so they’d forget that moment of weakness. “I won’t stop trying. I want to walk again with you through the peach trees as soon as possible, father...”  
  
Michael grimaced in pity for poor William, who was feeling so rotten, and gently rubbed his back. "You've done wonderfully today," he encouraged him compassionately. "We'll walk through the peach trees again soon. With all the rain we've been having, they'll look superb once they bloom.” 

  
William was then given some more morphine, as well as an antiemetic...but of course by then, he was in no state to be calling anyone. 

  
“I can trust you to take care of things, right?” he wheezed in exhaustion, pale, tired eyes opening onto his father’s familiar form.  
  
Michael nodded, lightly dabbing a wonderfully cool cloth onto William's forehead. "Of course," he promised with a tender smile. "How could I deny you? Even if I don't completely understand your feelings...I trust your judgment. Consider this task done. You rest as much as you need to, and regain your strength; there's going to be much to be done when you wake back up."  
  
Now drifting away, William experienced one odd and estranged thought, which was:  
  
_‘God...at least I didn’t cry this time.’_  
  
He found solace in that one lingering bit of pride in himself, however weak it was, before losing himself at last to sleep.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ho SNAP what is going ON here!!! Guess you better read the next chapter to find out ;DD Comments are B E L O V E D y'all <333


	12. Judgment of the Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An emergency hearing is called, regarding Sebastian's safety, and it doesn't go the way he expects. William can't seem to stop getting in the way of things. 
> 
> //AN: We are not lawyers and have no formal/informal education regarding law proceedings. we're just doin our best :>  
> Our chapters also have descriptive titles now, for ease of locating your faves! -- Clear ♡

William’s influence was exactly as powerful and far-reaching as he said it was. A court date was set for an emergency hearing, and it was a week from the initial altercation. It would not be a substitute for a proper trial, but it would certainly keep Sebastian alive until the time finally came. 

 

Bravat had told him that this hearing was to get him transferred out of the prison and into a secure psychiatric hospital. The plan was for Sebastian to keep his head down and keep quiet, and not cause any trouble while Bravat did all the talking...but Sebastian could not see how anyone would agree to such a thing.    
  
Was it not better for people like him to drop dead?

 

Sebastian Michaelis had to be brought into the courtroom in a wheelchair and in casts from his injuries, and he didn’t trust the two court security guards assigned to protect him. The swelling on his face had gone down some, but his whole body was still covered in horrible, angry bruises in various stages of healing — he hardly looked human.

Ashamed and embarrassed, he kept his head down as he was placed over in the Accused seat, partitioned off from any human contact.

  
He was handcuffed and leg-cuffed to his wheelchair, even in casts and slings. Bravat thought it would help a sympathetic image for him; cuffing a crippled man who couldn’t even walk. He was left with no dignity. Sebastian reminded him tersely of what he’d done to William, and would hear no more on the subject.

 

Now that he could take in his surroundings, he did so. Sebastian hadn’t known what to expect, but the last thing he could  _ possibly  _ have seen coming was this:    
  
_ William T. Fucking Spears _ himself, sitting tall, proud, and stoic at one of the tables, with his father, presumably, one one side, and Bravat Sky on the other.   
  
Sebastian’s jaw dropped and his heart and stomach did gymnastics inside him; no one,  _ no one _ told him that William was going to be there...!    
  
What the fuck kind of a sick joke was this...?! And worse, Bravat was sitting very smugly at the very same table, speaking with one of his assistants, right next to Michael Spears himself. They appeared acquainted, so… this was the prosecution’s table…?!   
  


Sebastian’s mouth went dry. Had they...bought Bravat out? Had he just turned traitor?! They were all sitting together at the same table, which in no possible continuity could have been the Defense.   
  
Without his lawyer, he was completely defenseless. What had happened to their plan? Bravat’s smooth talk...Sebastian had fallen for all of it. What little faith he’d had left was splintering to pieces and shattering before his eyes. 

 

It was just as well. Something like this  _ might as well _ happen to his already miserable life. In the end, he really had no one. Sebastian lowered his bitter, hardened gaze, gritting his teeth, and remained silent. Well, he’d see how this would play out.   
  


As the judge called for order, William ceased speaking with the attorneys, and turned his eyes forward. He was dressed in a handsome black suit, crisp and sharp with a fresh new haircut to match. His father was by his side, his suit one of charcoal. Michael had the kindest and most endearing gaze for his son, and he was kind and courteous to everyone around him, but the moment he laid eyes on Sebastian that gaze morphed into something that physically twisted one’s guts. 

 

There was little but undying hatred and — even bloodlust. Sebastian could  _ feel  _ the rage emanating from him, directed at himself, and it made him shiver.

 

“All rise,” called the bailiff. “The Honorable Judge Grey presiding.” 

 

The judge came and took his seat, bidding everyone to sit. He was a young and rather handsome man, though his hair was prematurely white. It fit well with the typical judge's attire, nonetheless, and he instantly commanded the attention of the entire court.

 

“The court has come together today to hear the criminal motion in the case of Sebastian Michaelis, brought forth by the Defense — one Mr. Bravat Sky,” he intoned.

  
W...wait…. _What?!_   
  
Sebastian blinked twice and looked between the judge and Bravat’s table in confusion. If…If Bravat was the Defense, like he’d originally believed, then that meant….William...and Michael Spears….were here to defend him…?  
  


Even as the judge spoke, Sebastian looked only at William in disbelief, who appeared to not even have noticed that Sebastian was even there. Sebastian knew he  _ must  _ have known; he was simply being adamantly ignored. Somehow, that hurt far more than Michael's piercing and murderous gaze. Nothing made any sense at all now.   
  


Oh, but beautiful William...a handsome man even under torture and neglect, he became a god when he was healthy, thriving, and grooming himself as he wished. Sebastian could not even see any evidence of a cast on the man, who simply had a pair of crutches with him.    
  
Although he was noticeably underweight, the perfectly tailored suit he wore highlighted his best areas and drew attention away from the rest, and with black leather gloves to conceal his hands….   
  
The raven’s heart winced and sank again. William really was determined to erase all traces that Sebastian had happened to him.

  
“This motion requests to have the Defendant be detained at the Stillwater Psychiatric Hospital as opposed to the Deephold Penitentiary, on the grounds of mental illness and the defendant’s physical safety, up until the trial,” the judge read off the application in his hand. “We will now hear the Defense’s argument for this motion to be passed.”     
  


But before Bravat could stand to speak, Michael Spears rose to his feet and slammed his hands down onto the desk before him. 

 

_ "Your Honor!" _ he cried, "I ask that before anything else, you forbid that  _ devil _ from looking anywhere  _ near  _ my son! Look at him, like a wolf stalking its prey — don't you see how psychologically damaging that could be for the victim?"    
  
Bravat gave Michael a dirty look and rubbed his head in his hand as the spectators murmured amongst themselves.   
  


Judge Grey considered it, absently twirling a gloved finger around a delicate tendril of white hair from his elegant ponytail.    
  
“Michael Spears, is it? Father of William Spears, whom the primary case against Mr. Michaelis is entirely centred around. Interesting to see either of you at the Defense table, and certainly very interesting that you’d address your own defendant in such a manner. Are you sure you have the right table?” he mused with a small chuckle. “I’ll allow it, but I must ask that you refrain from speaking out of turn again or I'll have you ejected from my courtroom. 

 

Michael went red with embarrassment, sitting quickly down, and Judge Grey made the order for Sebastian's view to be blocked.

 

“Let him stare,” came William’s cold, crisp voice. “I couldn’t care less. My dear father means well, but I am not  _ prey _ , and I myself have no issue with being  _ looked at _ , your Honor,” he said politely, positively mortified by Michael’s outburst. “We are quite aware what table we’re sitting at, and I look forward to tidying up this motion as quickly and efficiently as possible. Thank you.”   
  
For Sebastian, hearing William's voice again, especially in this context, felt exactly like being impaled through his whole body by an icicle. His blood ran cold, and his hair stood on end, rending him with a shiver, and his throat closed up tightly. Sebastian felt himself rapidly dissociating by this point, watching the scene unfold as if from outside of his own body, and with no sense of the passage of time.

 

What kind of man had William become in the span of a week? Back in the hospital, Sebastian had seen the pure terror on William’s face when they met. A panic attack, he’d heard. What kind of strength did it take for William to now hold himself together so expertly in the face of his abuser?    
  
More importantly,  _ why in the hell _ was he  _ defending _ said abuser? 

  
William’s words caused a murmur to strike up among the crowd, and the judge’s gavel struck its sound block. “Order!” he called, and when the courtroom began to settle again, he continued somewhat irately.    
  
“As you wish, Dr. Spears. We shall then strike this interruption from the record. Now,  _ Counselor _ , are you ready to present your opening argument?   
  


Bravat smiled warmly as all the faces in the room turned towards him. He was rather professionally dressed today; yes, there was a vibrant silk tie and his hair was still its wild, pastel lavender, but he’d combed it, and his suit was a mature, dark aubergine as opposed to his more typical picks of something describable only as ultraviolet. 

  
“I am, thank you. I’m positively ecstatic to bring justice to this poor creature who has been so terribly wronged!” the flamboyant young man simpered, resting his splayed, manicured fingers over his heart.    
  
Bravat declared that Sebastian was clearly suffering from severe mental illness and, at least until the formal trial, needed to be kept in a safe place where he could receive treatment. What Sebastian had done was due to deep trauma of losing his family in a fire, trauma which had gone untreated and allowed to fester in the darkest recesses of his mind from which there was no escape...as Bravat so eloquently put it.

 

“Why would we allow the unwell to go without treatment? Would you allow your ailing mother or father to waste away without the help they need? We  _ are _ dealing with an illness here,” Bravat challenged the prosecution.    
  
“A man who was  _ already _ deeply unstable to the point of suicidal before the winds of fate delivered Dr. Spears into his hands? The defendant is on record as saying he wishes only for Dr. Spears’ best recovery, and expressing remorse for his actions due to a burst of clarity through the madness.  Dr. Spears  _ is  _ a well-respected psychotherapist himself, so wouldn’t the greatest gift to him be to see a man like Sebastian Michaelis recover and reintegrate himself into society, unable and unwilling to harm another soul, including himself? Certainly we can all agree that it would not be a fair trial if a defendant was not fit to be held responsible for his actions.”   
  
The prosecution piped up with a ‘leading the jury’ objection, which the judge sustained, but Bravat was unfazed.   
  
“Dr. Spears is here because he knows an ill man needs treatment — at the very least, an ill man deserves to be  _ safe _ until he  _ does _ stand trial. Still, why should I speak for the good doctor, when he is right here, ready and willing to testify on Sebastian’s account?  Without further ado, I’d like to conclude my opening statement by summoning Dr. William T. Spears to the witness stand.”   
  
Graceful and dignified, William grasped the handles of his crutches and used them to rise deliberately to his feet, back straight and chin high. A shocked hush stammered through the courtroom as the victim himself left the defense table and then proceeded to take the witness box to defend his abuser. Without a single apparent concern for the stares from the prosecution, William sank down into the witness box seat, crossing one leg neatly over the other, and rested his crutches against the wall beside him.   
  


Now time stood completely still, and the ocean drowning Sebastian parted around him like the eye of a hurricane, bathing him in the warmth of sunlight. Sebastian did not deserve such kindness as William was affording him, and certainly not with all the grace and poise in the world. 

 

William neatly adjusted his glasses, before beginning to speak.    
  
“Yes, I am the man who was abused by the defendant,” he said coolly by way of greeting the court. “I have been more privy to the severe mental illness that Mr. Michaelis suffers than anyone here, and I imagine I am more qualified to speak about it than any of these court-appointed fools. As it has been mentioned, I was a practicing psychotherapist prior to the incident, so the clinical knowledge and experience I possess also allows me to offer an educated opinion on the matter.”

 

As William continued, Sebastian couldn’t help but stare in admiration. This was William at his peak. For Sebastian, there was nothing but overwhelming confusion; he didn't  _ deserve  _ to feel grateful, he didn't  _ deserve  _ such a motion from  _ William _ . Before he could properly return to his body, he felt tears leak over his long lashes. Oh,  _ hell... _   
  
It was... _ everything _ . It was too much. Everything had been too much, but William had flipped the entire thing onto its head and no one knew what in the fuck to think about it.    
  
Except Sebastian  _ did _ know.    
  
All along, William had said he wanted to help Sebastian recover, and the raven truly felt like scum for having ever doubted or underestimated him, evidenced by a sickening churning sensation in his gut — guilt, no doubt, and shame. William didn’t have to forgive his abuser, but he had a conscience, and a noble obligation to care for the mentally ill.    
  
Now would not possibly be any different.   
  


Evidence was produced left and right, lawyers flustered, and when the prosecution moved on to question William, he was ready. They tried to refute everything William said; portraying him as a pitiful, traumatised man suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, and Sebastian a remorseless psychopath merely playing whatever role was most convenient, according to doctors who had never assessed or evaluated William  _ or  _ Sebastian. William simply asked them how it could be, when he maintained a restraining order against the man, and had had zero contact with him?

  
William brought forth all the medical evidence in his power, from highly respected colleagues in the psychological field, and his own diagnosis. Though it was biased, he was clearly intelligent and confident, and hoped that would sway the jurors towards reason and sympathy.    
  


“The mere fact that a police officer could waltz into the prison, take a wooden bat and almost murder the defendant,” William declared coldly, “goes to show that there is a certain level of corruption within the force. Where was the usual guard? Why did he leave? How did the assailant check out a bat when he does not even  _ work _ at the prison? If Mr. Michaelis’ psych evaluations alone do not sway you to believe he is sick and in need of care, this instead should give you pause.”    
  
“Objection — leading the jury,” said the head prosecutor, Abberline, once more. William narrowed his eyes, which was very unnerving to the young attorney.   
  
“I’ll allow it,” said the judge pleasantly.    
  
“The witness rests,” Bravat interjected, allowing William to leave the box and join his father’s side once again.    
  
Maybe William  _ didn’t _ have Stockholm, but a psychopathy diagnosis for Sebastian might have interfered with the motion until the defense called its next witness — it was their ace in the hole.   
  


The ace in question was sitting alone on the side of the defense, sporting bandages over one side of her face, including over her eye. Sebastian was blank as he watched her rise to her feet, unable to put his finger on why she appeared so familiar. He glanced at Bravat for an explanation, an answer,  _ anything _ — when they met eyes, Bravat gave Sebastian an incredulous look, gesturing surreptitiously to her, but at  _ him _ , mouthing furiously the word  _ WHAT _ and smacking his forehead in a gesture of intellectual insult to him.

 

Sebastian slowly glanced back at her with a look of dawning comprehension, recognizing her at last. The constable who had orchestrated his arrest and capture, whom Claude Faustus had threatened out of misogynist jealousy. It seemed that he had at least partially succeeded in assaulting her — but she carried herself with the same dignity and pride as William did, as a survivor. She’d fought hard.

 

“The court recognizes Sergeant Hannah Anafeloz,” the judge intoned.

 

“Thank you, Your Honor,” she replied with a faint inclination of her head, soft-spoken but firm. “I am merely here to make sure this mentally ill defendant receives the care he needs.”

 

Hannah Anafeloz...Sebastian really didn’t remember any mention of her during the pre-trial. He must have been ignoring Bravat when she was mentioned, but her appearance was relieving nonetheless. Claude hadn’t managed to kill her, though he’d certainly tried. If the bandages on Hannah’s knuckles were any indication, she’d given him a sound beating in return.

 

She was sworn in as a witness then, swearing upon a book of law as William had, rather than the offered bible, and took her place at the witness stand. She, like William, exuded great power and commanded the attention of all in the room. For a few moments, the only sounds in the room came from the quiet typing of the court recorder and the scratching of a pencil on bristol from the court sketch artist.

 

The officer regarded her objector coldly, standing up straight and holding her hands primly behind her back. “I have personal eyewitness evidence contrary to Prosecutor Abberline’s claims,” she replied. “You have never laid eyes upon the defendant in person before today, is that correct? I was responsible for his arrest and capture during the rescue operation for Dr. Spears, and interacted with the defendant personally several times that day.”

  
To reinforce William’s already-powerful defense, Hannah Anafeloz spoke of the occurences in which Sebastian had acted selflessly, having voluntarily released William and complied with the police, not to mention her own experience with intelligent psychopaths in her line of work. Mr. Michaelis’ emotional confession matched up with William’s own police statement, the former of which was played for the court, and it was clear to the jurors the authenticity of his concern. But even though Sebastian had been so insistent on passing along pertinent details of William’s injuries and forced opiate dependence, the prosecutor brushed it off, saying it was not signs of empathy but merely obsession with his captive.   
  
Sergeant Anafeloz was not finished, however. She had one final card to play; the most important one.    
  
“As we know, Mr. Michaelis was very recently assaulted in the prison yard during solitary recreation time. The guard responsible for him was suspiciously absent, and Mr. Michaelis identified one Constable Claude Faustus as his assailant. The constable had spoken of intending to assault, rape, and murder me during his altercation with Mr. Michaelis —”

  
“Objection!” the prosecution cut in. “This is hearsay.”   
  
“It would be hearsay if Faustus had not gone ahead to do that exact thing to me,” Hannah answered bitterly. “It was lucky that Mr. Michaelis, beaten within an inch of his life and barely conscious, managed to get a warning to the paramedics, and I received it just in time. I’d only just grabbed my gun when he broke into my own residence and assaulted me. Without it, I might have been the one who was killed. Now, the defendant had no reason to warn me. An intelligent psychopath does nothing without benefit, yet there was no benefit for him here. For all of you who want to see a man who broke the law locked up, if you know anything about criminal psychiatric hospitals, you will know that he will be kept under lock and key, twenty-four seven. If it is your desire to see someone suffer who does not deserve to suffer, then you have no place being in a court of law.”

  
Hearing Claude had been murdered caused a jolt of delight in Sebastian’s chest, and he struggled to conceal it, lest they turn his gratitude against him. It was another relief, to be sure. The mad and corrupt officer could no longer harm anyone else, and he had received the most karmic end possible.

 

Hannah Anafeloz was practically a perfect stranger. Between William advocating for him, and this woman he’d barely met supporting William’s evidence...Sebastian was unprepared for any any sort of kindness, and this was above and beyond anything he’d ever hoped for. Already feeling distraught, Hannah’s declaration pushed Sebastian past what he could hold back, and he began to audibly weep into his broken hands while he was on the witness stand.    
  


“See my client’s traumatised mind!” Bravat crowed with a flourish. “See his anguish!”

**  
** The jurors and other members of the court murmured amongst each other, many still doubtful of Sebastian’s authenticity. Others questioned the true cause of Sebastian’s tears — was it a mere display of guilt for what he had done? Was he frightened of his inevitable punishment? As the prosecution said, this ‘psychopath’ was merely acting the part of a guilty man suffering the consequences of his actions, but could a true psychopath really act so selflessly and be so desperate to better himself?

  
Hearing Sebastian begin weeping, even William couldn’t resist glancing over, but he wasn’t sure it was worth the way his heart twisted. Much like it had done in the hospital, he was visibly disturbed at just the sight of the man, and uneasily took his father’s forearm for comfort. 

 

Michael immediately took William’s hand and forearm in turn, not even needing to look, to give them a gentle, reassuring pat. Privately, he agreed with the naysayers who claimed that Sebastian was a psychopath just acting for his own gain.   
  
There was no genuine remorse here; it was all just an act. It  _ had  _ to be. For all of William’s confidence, Michael was still his father, and would forever worry for him and protect him. He could not trust Sebastian, the man who had taken his son away from him and broken him mind and body, for even a moment. But William he  _ did  _ trust, and though Michael’s gut told him not to, he trusted his son anyway, and let him do what he needed to do. Michael had not seen Sebastian’s most vulnerable moments, his psychosis. He couldn’t have known.

 

Sebastian kept quiet and restrained for his part, just trying with all his might to keep it together. He couldn’t stop his shameful tears, but at the very least, he could keep himself from making a scene. The look on William’s face when they finally met eyes was heart-wrenching. William was so uncomfortable to even look at Sebastian, and yet here he was, trying his damndest to lighten Sebastian’s sentence and get him the help he needed, despite being the victim. It wasn’t fair. William was too good.

 

Judge Grey looked across his courtroom with quiet incredulity. He’d seen some very strange turnabouts in his career, but nothing like this. A victim of abuse fiercely advocating for his abuser to have his sentence lightened, and presenting damn good evidence supporting his appeal, and said abuser breaking into tears out of disbelief. It was only a  _ motion _ hearing, as well. Sebastian Michaelis hadn’t even  _ received  _ a sentence at all yet. How intense would the official trial be…?   
  
“Does the defendant need a moment to compose himself?” the judge asked, gazing neutrally down at Sebastian.   
  
“Th...that will not be necessary,” Sebastian answered hoarsely, lifting his head and wiping his eyes as best he could. “I’m…I am composed…thank you.”    
  
It was just as well they weren’t asking him questions about his crimes, because right now, he was failing to convince anyone he was alright. Despite the judge being content to continue and get this session adjourned as soon as possible, Sebastian was not the only one in need of a break.    
  
“We the defense second the motion for the recess, Your Honour,” William piped up from behind the gate, lightly pressing his fingers to a gray temple to push back the headache that was brewing there. “A fifteen minute recess would be more than sufficient.”   
  
The judge considered William for a moment, then sighed in agreement before pounding his gavel. “Very well, motion accepted,” he called, leaning back in his seat then. “The court will adjourn for a fifteen-minute recess.”   
  
Sebastian was confused and a little irritated as he was escorted from the defendant’s chair, back into his wheelchair, and pushed to a small break room.    
The room consisted of an old, yellowing fridge and a grayish sofa that he suspected had both been there since the 1980s, as well as the wood framed chairs that had matching upholstery to the sofa, and a rounded wood frame, glass top coffee table with a few surprisingly not so outdated magazines scattered across its surface. It had a shabby bathroom down the narrow wood-paneled hall, and an old drinking fountain with rather pitiful water pressure. 

  
Sebastian, still weeping quietly and hunched over, leaned his elbow on one knee and hid his eyes behind one hand as they spilled tears indiscriminately. It was horrendous, to show such a face in court. A grown man acting in such a way, unable to compose himself, could only come off as a most pitiful fraud, right? He wanted to believe the recess had not ultimately been granted as a result of his own shameful display; after all, William himself had been looking like he’d seen better days. There may have been some truth to it.   
  
_ Of course he’d seen better days. That’s why he’s here, you fool _ , came the bitter thought, unprompted.   
  
When he’d collected himself enough to stop crying (helped by the convenient box of tissues on the coffee table), Sebastian glanced around for Bravat, but his lawyer was nowhere to be seen. Sebastian had a couple of court security guards watching after him and guarding the doors from outside intruders, but Bravat was simply not there.

 

Well, he’d turn up. He was probably out smiling and waving for the media, anyway, Sebastian figured, with further bitterness stinging him. 

  
As for William, with Michael there to assist him, he made the gradual trek out of the courtroom doors with his crutches. Everyone else was long gone by the time he exited, with the exception of the sweet and ever-bubbly nurse Micah, who was waiting nearby to offer a big smile. “Is it crazy in there? Crazy cases get a lot of recesses...”  
  
Michael rubbed William's back affectionately. "It certainly became nothing short of chaotic in there," he told Micah, but his smile betrayed their success. "Of course, William performed without flaw. The amount of evidence he brought forth will sway everyone in his favor, without a doubt.”  
  
As they passed by a set of coffee machines and a table full of small milks and sugars, Michael could at least blurt out the question he’d been wanting to ask.   
  
“William, dear…about the recess…are you feeling — ”   
  
“I merely wished to use the men’s room,” the younger Spears cut in, adjusting his glasses primly. “I will take a small soy latte, if you’re getting anything.”   
  
Michael relaxed a little, pushing his hair back. Well, William seemed to be as feisty and determined as usual, so the elder Spears would take him at his word. “Alright,” he murmured, already reaching around to his back pocket for his wallet. “I’ll wait a moment before I get yours so that it’s still hot when you come back.”   
  
William made a noncommittal sound in response, using his forearm to push open the door to the Men’s. It was then he felt a presence behind him, which he saw to be Micah.  
  
“Do you have business in here as well, Nurse Hunter?” William asked crisply, eyes glinting with a hint of apprehension.  
  
Micah blinked in surprise, but remained unfazed to William’s customary caustic tones. “Oh, nah, I’m just doin’ my job to keep an eye on you. Y’know how it is!” he chortled, at which point William thrust an arm out to prevent the Irishman from proceeding.  
  
“That will not be necessary; thank you very much,” the brunet interrupted him brusquely with another adjustment to his gunmetal frames. “Go to the cafeteria or something.”   
  
Micah looked a little sullen at the sharp rebuttal, but then he realised it meant he could maybe see a certain someone for a few minutes, and gave in to William’s order. They weren’t in the hospital, and this wasn’t technically official business. He could slip away for a little bit, and William would be fine. Michael would see to that.  
  
After Micah scampered off, presumably to get himself a small snack before court resumed its session, Michael got himself and William some coffee. He took them with him to a bench next to the vending machines, waiting for William to come out, but when nine minutes minutes crawled by, then ten...he couldn't shake his growing feeling of unease. Eleven minutes was much longer than a usual trip to the restroom for William in crutches, and Michael knew better than to take chances with a handicapped person.

 

Uncertainly, he set the coffees aside and strode to the bathroom to check in on his son.   
  


Michael let himself into the mens’ room very casually, planning in his head to simply do a quick visual sweep of the space under the stall doors to look for William’s shoes.    
What he found instead, however, was William unconscious on the tile floor in  _ front  _ of the stalls, his head lying in a pool of blood. 

  
Without a second thought for his aging and achy body, Michael dove down onto his hands and knees on the hard, tiled floor to help his son.   
  
"Oh, christ,  _ William! _ " Michael gasped, frantically looking the limp man over to determine what had happened to him. Had he been attacked?! Had that filthy, despicable Sebastian organised a hit on his favourite victim? If that was the case, the current Spears patriarch would make sure Sebastian never left this courthouse alive.   
  


In the process of dialing Micah’s number to get him over here ASAP, as well as discerning what had happened to his son, Michael became aware of William starting to stir. It seemed by the looks of things that the majority of the blood was coming from William’s nose. There was a small cut on the bridge, surrounded by a bruise that was growing rather rapidly, but the blood was from his nostrils and not the wound itself. The more Michael wondered, the more likely it appeared that the injury had been the result of a seizure.    
  
After all, once logic set in, it became all too obvious that he would have  _ seen _ someone entering or leaving the men’s room.    
  
“...{‘tousama...?}” William’s voice asked softly, drawing a deep breath into his lungs as he began to reorient himself. His whole body felt like lead, and he wasn’t even sure if he could lift his head off the cold tile.    
  
"{Father's here, darling,}" Michael assured his son, smiling as William's eyes drifted hazily open. "{Can you see me clearly? How many fingers am I holding up?}"   
  
William was very slow to stir, almost as if he was in his own dream world and deeply reluctant to leave. He mumbled something incoherent in response. 

  
Michael began to grab swathes of toilet paper into his arms to clean up all the blood around William’s face, head, and to at least soak up the majority of the substance as it seeped destructively through William’s crisp white dress shirt.    
  
"{I just now came in to check on you,}" he told William quietly, keeping his voice soft and calm. "{I saw you were unconscious. Don't move too much...take deep breaths. Micah should be on his way. Do you remember what happened at all?}"   
  
Thankfully, Micah’s text came only moments later.    
  
' _ omw _ ', it said, which to those who were text-savvy indicated that Micah was bolting back across the courthouse as fast as his freckled Irish legs could carry him.   
  
Using only his own strength, William dragged his arms forward and used them to lever himself up and against the cold bathroom wall. His head lolled in exhaustion afterwards, but he clumsily wiped his jaw. "...Bad…se...seizure..." he muttered in English, showing his returning coherency. His glasses had come off during the fit, as they usually did, but the vivid red of blood being wiped off of his person could not be mistaken. 

 

Certainly, one could also not ignore the sensation of warm blood leaking down their face. “...Head...hurts…”   
  
Michael found William's glasses (thankfully unharmed) and held his son still while he slipped them back onto his face. "Oh, darling, I imagine it does," he murmured, fixing William's hair. "You’ve clearly hit it at some point during the seizure and gotten a terrific nosebleed. Don’t be alarmed by it, understand? We’ll get you checked out at the hospital as soon as possible. Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?"   
  
He seemed alright, by and large, but the fact remained that William’s clothes were soaked in blood, and he would not be able to return to the trial in this state. Poor William...the fewer people who saw him in this state, the better. Any decent gentleman would be mortified. For however long it to Micah to get here, it was still less time than an ambulance and EMTs would have taken, and significantly less of a scene to be made. 

 

Anything to preserve William's dignity and image.  _ Anything. _ __  
__  
As William  _ was _ a decent gentleman, he did suffer the mortification Michael expected of him as he came back to his senses. “Damn it...I’ve really...messed things up, haven’t I…?” He kept his head down, and the fringe that Michael had lovingly brushed out of his eyes fell forwards again to cover cheeks that had gone entirely scarlet.    
  
“No, darling,” Michael said softly, assessing the state of William’s clothes in order to see if they could be saved or not. “It was only an accident. This was unexpected, but we’ll work with it.”   
  
His son didn’t seem so convinced, and he moaned quietly in uncertainty and pain, putting a hand gingerly to the cut on his nose.    
  
“T...this is ridiculous,” he muttered, hunching his shoulders. “We have a  __ hearing ...we have to get back to. There’s...no time to go to the hospital.”   
  
But even as he said it, he knew that there was no way he could go back into the courtroom in this condition. 

 

Even if they got all the blood off his face and out of his hair, it was stained in his shirt and jacket, and judging by the pain on his nose, he was going to get a nasty bruise. There was also the fact that neither he nor Michael knew how long he’d been unconscious, so it would be very irresponsible not to go to his neurologist as quickly as possible. They had to get scans done and ensure that no permanent damage had occurred during the seizure.    
  
William sighed and parted his fingers to glance through them at his father. “I know, I know…” he groaned defeatedly, receiving a rueful nod in return. “We...can’t afford to take risks. And I  _ can’t _ be seen like this...it’s far too shameful.”   
  


“That goes without saying. Your presentation is paramount,” the elder Spears replied, pausing to flush a heap of bloodied toilet paper down the toilet. 

 

It was then that Micah tumbled in the door, bright red in the face and out of breath.    
  
“So — sorry — I was — and then I was  — and then I couldn’t find my way back —“ he puffed, looking genuinely apologetic and embarrassed as he hurried over to William. “Blimey, that’s a rough bruise yer gonna have there, lad. Let’s see...a seizure, was it...? Alright, let’s go over the usual questions, Will. Can ya look at me?” 

  
William nodded dourly as he met Micah’s eyes, who could immediately tell William would not be in the mood for any lighthearted antics.

  
"Make it quick," Michael said tersely, beckoning Micah down to the floor with them. "I’d like to get William out of here as quietly as possible. I must emphasise that we need to practice the greatest discretion possible, Micah. Can you do that?"

 

“Well, yeah, but it’s just a bit of blood, innit?” the redhead asked. “Not something to be embarrassed about. I mean, it coulda been worse. He ain’t had no kind of an accident, or —”

 

“ _ That will be enough, Micah,”  _ William cut in with a scowl. 

 

Micah chuckled, going through their usual routine with William post-seizure. Checking his eyes, his reflexes, his memory...they couldn't miss a thing. 

 

William was trembling, not just from the post-seizure, but also the sticky, cloying sensation of shame he felt. 

Despite his father’s reassurance, he knew that he  _ had  _ ruined their plans for the hearing, whether he’d intended to or not. He’d fallen to the ground and bled all over himself like an idiot, frightening the hell out of his poor father. 

 

The way he saw it, he either was going to be accused of cowardice or incompetence due to his failure to show up, or damage the defense’s case by admitting the truth — he’d had another of the seizures Sebastian had caused in the first place. 

 

Either way, it could potentially lose their case, and his reputation would be smeared. This was  _ not  _ the small happening that Michael made it out to be. 

 

“Can you stand up, Will?” the young Irish nurse asked in a soft voice, giving William’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.    
  
This yanked the traumatized man out of his troubled thoughts, and he looked at Micah blankly for a moment before he realized what had just been asked of him.    
  


“Of course I can,” he mumbled, though he didn’t sound all that sure about it.   
  
“May I help you up to your feet?” Michael ventured. “I’d like to lend you a hand any way that I can.”   
  
William begrudgingly agreed, and leaned heavily against his father while he was very carefully lifted from the floor. He was given his crutches, but when he maneuvered them under his arms, he discovered that he could not grip and support them without tremendous effort that made his arms quake.

 

“Damn it all to hell,” he hissed under his breath. The more he blushed, the faster blood continued to drip from his nose, though at least it had mostly stopped for now. 

 

“Forget the crutches, dear. Put your arm around my shoulders,” Michael suggested quickly, not wanting William to suffer an ounce more shame. Given how underweight William currently was, he wasn’t too hard to carry.   
  


“Micah, my car keys are in my right coat pocket. Yes — right there. I trust you to bring my car to the east wing's exit swiftly and without a problem. We’ll meet you there in a tiff.”

 

“Got it,” Micah peeped, taking William’s crutches and scampering out the door.

 

Michael supported William against himself, and they moved relatively quickly through the halls to get to the agreed-upon exit. The courtroom was filling back up, so no one was in the halls when Michael passed through them. No one saw, and no one knew. 

 

Michael made a note to call Bravat and the rest of the attorneys and inform them that they would not be back for the rest of the session. No one would be happy, but it simply could not be helped. 

 

"You're doing wonderfully," the dedicated father promised as he eased his way out the east wing's door. "We're almost in the clear."

 

There were only a few more feet until they were in the car, which Micah had gone and dutifully fetched for them. Michael carefully maneuvered William so that he could unlatch the back door, and then helped William into the cab and onto the seat.

 

Michael took a moment to catch his breath, but still only had a smile for William once his son was safely in the car. 

"Are you cold, darling? I have a blanket in the trunk we can put over your lap until we get to the hospital," he offered. "It'll only be a few minutes until we're there."

 

William made a small sound of irritation as he was settled down into the seat. He looked up at his father, and while he did feel pity for the poor man in his aging body for having to support his weight, it was quickly replaced by humiliation.  

 

Such a prideful man, feeling infantilised like this was too much to bear. 

 

"There is no need for you to come along, father. Deal with the attorneys instead," he snapped, shielding his bloodied face from view with his hand. 

 

They couldn't have given him five minutes to clean himself up, and he resented them immensely for that, because now he had to deal with the stains on his shirt and the disgusting sticky blood all over his face and in his hair, and it had begun to  _ dry _ . 

 

"I can deal with them from my phone," Michael insisted, drumming his fingers anxiously along the car door. "You're more important, love."

 

But he saw the resentful glare from his son, and it made him  _ ache _ . The old man sighed and hung his head, tightening his grip on the car door, and shifted even more anxiously, knowing he would have to make it up to him. He knew how unpleasant it must have been to be drenched in his own blood like this. The sooner he was treated, the better.

 

"You're my greatest priority in life, William," Michael whispered unhappily. "I'd never be able to forgive myself if something terrible happened to you because I didn't take action quickly enough. I'm sorry I've made you so uncomfortable, and...I’ll give you some space. Micah...please, drive carefully. Take care of him as you always have."

 

William bit down on his lip, hard enough that it almost bled.

 

"Father," he said thickly. "...This...this is the last time I'll be broken like this. Mark my words." Then he closed the door, and quietly bid a grim-looking Micah to drive.

 

Michael nodded, watching the door close, watching the car speed off. He sighed to himself and only turned back into the building when the car had left his line of sight. He didn’t mean to be so overbearing — he really didn’t. William needed room to make his own decisions and have privacy. It was a delicate balance. 

 

He made his way back into the courthouse, walking at a brisk pace to make it back to their courtroom in time for the session to resume, but he was so lost in thought that he didn’t pay close attention to where he was walking. As a result, as he rounded a corner to go back to a main hallway, he literally walked right into none other than the peacockish, extravagant lawyer, Bravat Sky.

 

“O-oh! I beg your pardon — ” Michael uttered apologetically, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses as he withdrew.

 

Bravat smiled benignly at the flustered man, not seeming bothered at all. 

 

“Oh, my. Aren’t we in a hurry~” he cooed. “I understand, of course; I couldn’t help but notice, Dr. Spears seems to be in a bit of a state...” 

 

He looked Michael up and down, then crossed the distance into Michael’s proximity once more. 

 

“This isn’t a publicity stunt, is it? Just when I was starting to think you were on our side~” he queried.

 

Michael immediately grit his teeth, his concern turning to defensiveness. This smug little bastard...! He had some nerve to invade personal space like this...

 

“William is having a medical emergency,” he said tersely, glaring down at Bravat. “It is not a ‘stunt’. I don’t trust your client any further than I could throw him, but I respect my son’s desire to have the man’s mental health properly treated. It is no concern of yours.”

 

“Of that, you are endearingly  _ in _ correct. I think you’ll find that you returning to court and saying your dear boy was injured due to seizures my client originally induced...is quite detrimental to my case.” 

 

He was much shorter than Michael, but held a resounding presence, especially with the extra height his shoes lent him, his near ethereal levels of beauty, and his honeyed voice. 

 

“But is it worth it, making William out to be so weak, after how hard he works to look strong?”

 

More than anything in the world, Michael longed to grab this man and throttle him, to belt anyone who would defend a creature as vile as that devil, Michaelis.    
Out of all the people who should not have known what had happened, Bravat Sky was number one on the list. Unfortunately, for a lawyer this sleazy, Michael didn’t dare lay one finger on him, lest he have assault charges on his record. Not only that, if he lost his temper, he would lose his credibility and respect, as well. He had to play it cool. It was a game to play, and he had to win.

 

“That's very interesting that you would suggest such a thing,” Michael murmured, smiling thinly. “You seem to be under the impression that I have any interest whatsoever in betraying William's privacy — how incredulous. I have absolutely no intentions of letting those details go on the court record; William’s privacy is paramount. It would most certainly be in your best interest to keep quiet about the details of the medical emergency; you and I agree on this, do we not?”

 

Bravat chuckled heartily, about as unfazed as one could possibly be. 

 

“Mm, the medical emergency,” he murmured. “I think he left details of that all the way from the men’s room to the sidewalk, poor little star...it looks like a crime scene. You smudged your glasses, by the way.”

 

Bravat brushed himself off and leaned against the wall of the building smoothly. “So...since neither of us want any info to... _ leak _ , shall we say, perhaps there’s something we could do to, mmm...seal the deal. A gentleman’s agreement.”

 

There were not enough words in the English language that could adequately describe how much Michael wanted to hit this man with a chair. Thousands of heated demands to shut the fuck up rose up his throat, but luckily they died on his tongue before he could open his mouth. Instead, the pleasant smile he wore grew just a little wider, pressed a little thinner, and he calmly removed his glasses to clean them with the microfiber cloth he had in his pocket.

 

“Well then,” he replied amiably, hating this man with every atom in his body and wishing for nothing more than to crush his skull in his bare hands, “I'm sure there's  _ something _ here that we can agree upon. I wonder what you had in mind?”

 

Bravat hummed, curling his finger in a lock of lavender hair. "I'm open to suggestions, but you'd better make it quick if you want time to run off and change your shirt," he commented, gesturing to the dark red, damp stain on Michael's pure-white dress shirt. "You wouldn't want to seem dishevelled when we come back."

 

Michael ‘humphed’ quietly and turned his nose up after he’d examined his shirt; it was true that there was a stain there, from William’s nosebleed. Well, fortunately, Michael was always prepared for accidents and spills of all kinds; he had a crisp, fresh shirt in his briefcase waiting for him now.    
  
“No, I should think not,” the elder Spears commented with a raised eyebrow, turning his attention back to Bravat. “I think it will be simple enough to agree not bring this issue up in the courtroom. For my son’s image, and your client’s. But sealing the deal...would afford some confidence.”

 

He adjusted his cufflinks, tilting his head with a continuing falsely benevolent smile. “By the way, I’d prefer to have that settled before I go and get changed. You see, I can’t have you go running off while my back is turned. Surely you understand.”

 

“What did you think I meant?” Bravat answered patiently, glancing at his sugilite-encrusted Rolex. He smiled at the handsome elder gentleman and beckoned him further inside the courthouse, then turning off into an unused stairwell. 

 

“You’ll have to kneel. Height isn’t one of my strengths, but I promise I make up for it,” he murmured as he locked the door to the stairwell behind them.

 

Michael had surmised that the 'deal' would end up becoming something sexual, and it was only cemented with the locking of the stairwell door, but he couldn't stop his jaw from falling open in surprise at the suggestion that he would be the one 'giving'. 

 

"I beg your — " he sputtered, adjusting his glasses with a hot blush, "I beg your  _ pardon _ , but it's awfully presumptuous to assume I'm the sort of man who would do such things with another man, and a stranger at that...! Do you — !! Do you do this with every person you'd rather keep quiet?"

 

Bravat leaned back against the wall with a bemused expression until Michael had finished his expected tirade. 

 

“Darling, I could not care less what sort of man you think you are,” he sighed, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. “You came here, after all~ I think it’s because you know you stand to lose more than I do. Your poor son, if he knew it was your fault that word got out...”

 

It was a bluff, really, but Bravat was a risk-taker, and he was sure this would pay off.

 

Michael flushed darkly and averted his gaze, feeling the heat on his cheeks. Being guilted on top of the humiliation...Bravat Sky was a truly despicable man, and Michael had far too much to lose to call his bluff. Michael Spears was not a risk-taker. Keeping William from being hurt again was the most important objective, and he would see it through even if it meant his own degradation and humiliation.    
  
His son was worth it.

 

—————

 

Though lawyers and passersby gave confused looks as Bravat Sky and Michael Spears left the unused stairwell with renewed vigour, nothing was said or implied, and Bravat went back to work.

 

With the help of the other attorneys, Bravat spread word around the courtroom that there had been a family emergency of some sort, and both Spears men ended up having to leave the trial. Ultimately, their work had been done, the excuse went over fine, and the hearing went on unimpeded. 

 

With William’s contributions of evidence and personal testimonies, along with Hannah Anafeloz’s and the panel of medical experts, the hearing of Sebastian Michaelis was concluded very quickly.

 

The judge ultimately accepted the motion to have Sebastian relocated from a prison to a mental health rehabilitation center until his trial. Sebastian, for his part, was so overwhelmed and confused and grateful that he wept yet again on the witness stand. 

 

The press had a field day over the verdict, and Bravat Sky had a field day right with them. The eccentric attorney kept his word to Michael, and kept his story straight. The media attention he received was far more interesting than someone’s nosebleed, after all, but as far as their little deal went...it was ludicrous to think either one of them had any benefit to gain by betraying William’s incident.    
  
Whatever reason they had to do what they did, it was...entirely selfish.

 

Within the next few days, Sebastian was transferred to the Stillwater Psychiatric Hospital, a high security facility for the dangerous mentally ill. He wasn’t certain what he was in for, and truly, it felt surreal to be moved someplace safer, but he would adjust. All he could do was silently thank William again and again for his mercy and compassion, as he started this new chapter in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (let us know if you want the deleted smut scene between Michael and Bravat !)
> 
> the authors' diets consist solely of reviews. help two hungry authors out and leave us a tasty review to snack on while we write this fic for you. <3


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